Wayward Legacy
by ArmagonAuthor
Summary: Dean isn't the only one being dragged from the pit. John is back, and the Winchester boys are together at last. But things have changed, and it is only the beginning. Stars: John, Sam, Dean, Ruby, Bobby, Castiel, etc.
1. Chapter 1

It was cold. That was the first thing he noticed. It wasn't the white-hot pain of hell, nor the faint nothingness he felt when the devils gate had been opened and he pulled himself out. Those boys had done it, the ones no one had believed in. The ones the world had abandoned. They had stopped Azazel from opening the gate. Well… not quite. But they had closed it soon after. And he had managed to break free from that god-forsaken place first.

Slowly, he stood, a raged shadow in the night. He was alone on the roadside, as he had been for a terribly long time. Always alone…

With a shaky hand held up to his face, the light through the treetops caught his fingertips, sending cobweb-shadows onto the ground below. He had a body. A living body. He felt his face; it felt familiar. The same tired eyes, the same scraggly beard. He was in his old body… but that couldn't be possible. He knew that he would have been taken care of after his death. Maybe he had been somehow reborn.

Carefully, with caution, he stepped onto the road, and a car honked as it swerved to avoid him. So, they could see him. He was alive. His resurrection must have a purpose, but what was it?

Heart pumping in chest, he began to make his way towards the lights ahead, marking a town some miles off. In his heart, John Winchester knew. He hadn't been brought back for nothing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The trace had taken two days, to John's dismay. Police had barely accepted his story about loosing his cell phone. But still, they eventually allowed him to trace his old cell, and it had lead him to a small town in Nebraska. And now he was there.

With a flick of the wrist, he turned to the yellow pages of the phone book, searching for the first hotel listed. That had always been his system for finding the boys incase they ever got separated. He wondered if they still stuck to that system. A thought suddenly came to John. _We're they both alive? _ _One_ of them had the cell phone; that much was clear. So that guaranteed that _one_ of his boys, his flesh and blood, his sons, were alive. _God, please let them _both_ be okay._

When he found the hotel, he made a phone call, looking for his old contact names, and soon found Dean's alias listed as someone staying in the hotel. Still… Sam could be using one of Dean's ID's. It wouldn't be the first time. John hoped again that _both_ the boys were okay. He began his research again.

John walked around the corner slowly in the dark, his hunter instincts still as fresh as the day he died. Room 408 was just a few feet away, which had been where his son – or sons, as the case was hopefully – were staying. He waited, and soon he saw the door open a crack and a tall young man slipped out. He dared edge a bit closer. Sam? The man looked around, and John's thoughts were proved correct. It was Sam.

He watched in his hiding spot as Sam looked around suspiciously, his similar hunter instincts likely picking up John's sent. John drew back a few inches, and Sam put his key in his pocket, and drifted around the corner until he got to a small convenience store down the block. John tailed him the whole time, staying in the shadows.

Sam seemed a little different, he noticed. It was just little things, the way he walked, the way he seemed to be aware of his surroundings, the way his hand drifted to the inside of his jacket once or twice as if reaching for a gun; but John saw it. Sam had become more like… well… him. He had Winchester written all over him. _Not that he wasn't ever a Winchester._ Somehow, John was saddened that Sam had finally caved, after all John's years of raising him. John had wanted Sam to be more like a hunter, but Sam had fought back. That was secretly the way John wanted his son to be. Normal. Sam had now become a reflection of his father, which John was both proud and confused to see.

"What a surprise," John ducked in an alley as an attractive brunette woman in a leather jacket appeared behind Sam. _Where the heck did she come from?_ "Out for a little stroll are we?"

"Ruby," Sam sighed, looking around and leading her a few steps into the alley, and out of earshot of any passers-by, forcing John to hide behind a dumpster to stay out of sight. "What are you doing here?"

The woman gave a little sigh, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. "I waited at the junkyard last night. You didn't come."

"I told you I wouldn't be there. I'm done with it, all of it." There was both anger and embarrassment in Sam's voice.

"How am I supposed to do this by myself?"

"I don't know, you were a witch once. You think of something."

"I can't do an exorcism Sam!"

"Not the ritual romanum," Sam's voice lowered a tad as someone walked past the alley entrance. "But you know a lot about a lot of things, and there's no denying that."

"The person died you know…"The woman seemed to be testing Sam. " The woman who was possessed. She didn't make it."

"It's a harsh business." Sam's voice was somewhat cold.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, Sam." The woman rolled her eyes, as if bored. "All you had to do was" –

"I think I've lied enough already, _least_ of all to you. I think I own it to my brother to use a little good judgment for once."

"I think it was a little of _my_ good judgment that saved you're ass how many times now? Imagine what Lilith would have done without my little intervention..."

"Yeah, what a great help you were! I'm sure Dean _really_ appreciated it."

John felt himself panicking. _Dean? What happened to Dean?_

"Maybe if you would have been a little quicker with that knife, you could have finished the job _I_ started, and we wouldn't have this problem!" The woman pushed off of the wall, taking a step closer to Sam.

Sam hesitated, glaring back at her. "And I wouldn't have _this_ problem either." He looked the woman over, obviously stating that _she_ was the problem.

The woman gave Sam a cynical smile. "And _that_ is why we need to do this. We can get through Lilith's minions until we find her and end this once and for all."

"You know, Dean isn't worthless either. We _will_ do an exorcism you know. The old fashioned way. Or the knife" –

"Yeah, the knife! Because you know that that is such a brilliant idea." The woman threw her arms in the air at the clear absurdity of Sam's idea. "Why do you think what we do works so well Sam? No words, no Latin, no colt, no knife. And at least we have a chance in hell of saving the person!"

"A chance in hell? What do you have to loose Ruby? I actually have a soul to worry about!"

The woman shook her head both sadly and cynically. "You disappoint me," She gave him once last look before beginning to walk away.

"I'd sure like to hope so." Sam didn't even watch her leave. He just let her. Then, with a heavy sigh that showed how much Sam had now taken on, he continued into the convenience store.

John waited until Sam left again, and continued to tail him after he left the store. He knew it was no point alerting Sam of his presence until at least tomorrow, lest Sam know that John had been following him. It was nothing personal; John had been gone a long time. What was wrong with checking up on his boys?

When Sam rounded the corner of another alley on the way back to the hotel, John's thoughts were interrupted. _Where is he going?_ He followed Sam around the corner carefully, down to the end, and around another corner, but stopped. Sam was gone. _What the…_

Suddenly Sam jumped at him, knife in hand and John was thrown against a wall. John ducked back from another swing, temporarily dazed but still ready for self-defense. "Whoa, Sam. Wait" –

"What are you?" Sam held out the knife in front of him, ready to fight. John noticed that it was silver.

"Sam, I'm not" –

Sam took another swing, this one John ducking under Sam's arm and backing up.

"Now Bobby I would understand. Or Dean. But my dad?" Sam interrupted once again. "Now that's a neat trick."

"Damnit Sam, It's me."

Sam pushed John against the brick wall, the knife at the ready. "You would have to be a shape-shifter, wouldn't you? I mean, how stupid do you think I am?"

"I'm not a shape-shifter Sam!" John was surprised. Sam had really changed. He was stronger, faster, a better hunter."I just woke up in the middle of nowhere, and I traced my old cell phone, and" –

"That story's a little convenient, don't you think?"

Sam made a movie with the knife, and John grabbed his wrist, and slamming it against the brick, managed to get the knife to fall out of Sam's hand. Sam pulled away quickly, his sleeve pushing halfway up his arm, and reached for the knife, but a knee to the side sent him to the ground long enough for John to grab it.

"Look," John held the knife in front of him, gesturing for Sam to stay back as he pulled himself to a stand. "Now listen to me. I am not a shape-shifter. And I'm not a trickster or a demon or a …" he took a deep breath. " I'm old. I don't want to do this. Now how can I prove to you that I'm me?"

Sam, also breathing hard, looked from the knife to John, as if considering his options. Just then, John noticed something on Sam's arm under his sleeve that had been pushed up in the fight. It looked like some kind of circular burn mark, with a line down the center…

"What the hell is that?"

Sam gave a look around, then followed John's gaze down to his wrist, still weary of the knife in front of him. Even though Sam was a lot more of a guarded person than he used to be, John could still read his face to see what he was thinking. Firstly,_ How do you not know this? _And second of all, _If you aren't my father, why would you care?_

John forced a tight smile. "So… how's your brother?'

Sam hesitated. "What do you want with me?"

John huffed a little bit, letting the knife fall to his side. "Well a better greeting would have been nice. But, It's nice to see you taking care of yourself so well."

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't seem to know if John was insulting him or complimenting him.

"Truth be told,"John started hopefully. "I didn't even think about how you boys would react when… I just knew I had to find you. It's been so…"

"So long." Sam nodded a little bit, finishing John's sentence. "Over two years now. I…"He hesitated, frowning at John. After a few seconds, Sam's eyes raised back to John's. He gave a little sigh of disbelief, as if finally seeing in John's eyes something that told the truth. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I." John smiled, shrugging.

Both men stood staring at each other for a minute, and then Sam started forwards, pulling his father into a hug.

After a while, John pulled away. "Damn boy, were you always this tall?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Way to ruin the moment dad."

"I'm serious. Did I get shorter or something?"

"I doubt it." Sam reached down and picked up the knife, sticking it into a little sheath in his belt.

"Hey Sam," John caught up with his son, as they made their way out of the alley together. "What year is it?"

"Two-thousand and eight."

"And…"John was almost afraid to ask. " How is Dean?"

Sam smiled. "Well if you hurry up, you can see for yourself."

"Good."

"But…"Sam hesitated.

"What?" John looked over to Sam, curious.

"Just be careful. Dean has a knife of his own."


	2. Chapter 2

It was amazing to be back. John couldn't believe how much he enjoyed walking, just walking with his son on his way to see his other son. It was a relief, to be honest. Dean was alive, Sam was well, all was good in the world.

Sam threw John another curious look – he had been doing that since they set off – like he wanted to say something, but had decided against it.

"What?" John raised an eyebrow in question.

"Nothing."

"No Sam, what is it?"

"Its just…"Sam looked away, still walking. " I feel like I'm going to wake up any second now, you know what I mean? It's just… two years. I can't believe it. Any more miracles and I'm going to have to apply for martyrism to pay for it all."

"What do you mean?" John frowned. _Two miracles?_

"It's just that this all feels like a dream, I guess."

"No," John stopped, and Sam followed suit. "I mean, what do you mean about the other miracles?"

Sam shuffled his feet for a second, sighing. "What do you remember? About… about hell?"

John was taken aback? "How did…"

"Like I said, it's been two years. And we had a _lot_ of opportunities to connect the dots."

"Well…"John frowned. _What _do_ I remember?_ His mind drew up a blank. "Nothing. The only thing I remember is crawling out of the hells gate before you and Dean closed it."

Sam smiled. " So that really was you…"He trailed off. " So what else do you remember? Were you like following us since then or something? Like a ghost?"

John shrugged. "If I was, I sure as hell don't remember any of it."

Sam nodded; looking somehow relieved, and went to continue when John grabbed his arm to stop him. "You still never explained what you said earlier."

"What I…"  
"About the miracles."

Sam nodded, looking back up at John. "We have a lot to talk about, and I think Dean would kill me if he wasn't here for this."

"I really missed that much?" John was baffled, but not amazed. "Anything bad happen while I was away?" It was partially a trick question, partially serious curiosity.

Sam hesitated, but didn't stop walking. "Let's just say you didn't miss very many good times."

John didn't have anything to say to that. Now, more than ever, he really wanted to know what happened when he was away. Whatever had happened, Sam still felt the scars. That was certain. He hadn't covered them up that well.

"So," Sam turned around, gesturing for John to keep up. "Ready to see Dean?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The door opened with a loud creak, and Dean rolled his eyes, not even turning around from Sam's laptop where he was seated. "Took you long enough. For a second I thought" –

"Dean?" Sam's tone of voice made Dean turn around. "I think you might want to come outside."

"What?" Dean read Sam's face for expression. "Did someone scratch the Impala? Did _you_ scratch the Impala? Sam I swear" –

"No one scratched the Impala Dean." Sam interrupted. "Seriously, come outside."

Dean rolled his eyes, but stood. "Whatever Sam, I don't know what is so amazing about whatever you" –

"Hey Dean."

Dean was cut short. Standing in the doorway, was John. Dad. It was dad_. No… Dad's dead. I have to stop doing this to myself_. He gave a causal look from John – fake John – to Sam, then his gun was in his hands within a second and aimed at the imposter's head.

"Whoa Dean!" Sam moved in front of the gun, holding out his hands in mock surrender. "Calm down. It's him. I already checked. I was at him with a silver knife already. It's dad."

John hadn't moved, he seemed prepared for this. "Dean…"He smiled, nodding a little bit. " Good to see you boy."

Dean frowned, looking from Sam to John. "You checked him?"

"Dean, if he wanted to kill me, he could have done it fifty times already." Sam didn't' seem scared of the gun at all.

For another moment or two, Dean hesitated behind the gun, but then un-cocked it and let his hand drop down to his side. "…Dad?"

John smiled, and moved into the room, looking around. "Good to know you two haven't lost interest in classy hotels…"He said a little sarcastically, trying to break the ice as Sam shut the door behind them.

Sam huffed. "We learned from the best."

"Good answer." John stopped pacing the room, looking to Dean.

Dean nodded. "I can't believe it." He walked forwards and pulled John into a hug.

"That's exactly what I said," Sam looked to dad when the guys pulled away from their hug.

"So…"Dean looked expectantly at John. " How? How'd you get back?"

"I…"John shrugged, unsure. " I wish I knew. I can't believe it. I don't remember a thing, well except for the hells gate opening. Sam was just asking me."

"Good," Dean nodded. _I'm glad you don't. Two years is a lot longer than four months._ "So if you were there for the gate opening…"He gave a little smile. " Than that was really you who saved my ass back there."

"Both of ours." Sam added.

"Yeah," John smiled back. "And I saw you kill the yellow-eyed demon. I've never been so proud of you boys."

"Well, we're not done yet." Sam huffed. "There are still hundreds of demons out there that got released, and we've only just left our mark."

John nodded. The war never seemed to stop. "Than I guess I won't be sitting here twiddling my thumbs, now will I?"

Dean shook his head at the thought. Dad was alive! He was alive! They had both been pulled out of hell. Maybe an angel had pulled out John too... Dean had never been so thankful that Sam was a believer, whether that really had anything to do with the outcome or not.

"So what happened while I was away?"

Dean and Sam shared unsure glances. "Where to begin…"

"Well when I was fighting off Sam, I noticed a weird scar on his arm." John turned to his younger son, and Dean could feel him tensing, wondering what type of questions he would get first. "We can start with that."

Sam scratched the back of his head, giving a chuckle. "Wow dad, that's probably the worst possible place we _could_ start."

"How so?"

Sam looked up to Dean, his face screaming _now what?_ "Well Dean, you were there. And coincidentally I wasn't…"His voice held both irony and bitterness, which was expected.

John raised an eyebrow at Sam, then Dean. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"Well I guess I _was_ there… but…"Sam didn't seem to know where to start. " I wasn't really" –

"Remember Meg?" Dean cut in; ready to save the day.

"I thought she was long gone?" John was shocked.

"Oh she is now." Sam nodded. More bitterness.

"_Now_?"

"I guess she wanted to get to know me a bit more." Sam intervened, pulling back his sleeve again to reveal the burn mark that still scared his arm. It had faded since Dean last saw it, but it wasn't very hard to hide. "Ever seen this symbol?" Sam looked back up to John? "Its binding magic. Keeps a demon in a person's body so they can't be exorcised."

John looked shocked. He had been possessed, but Dean knew it hadn't been for that long. "So you were…"He changed the subject. " How long?"

"Just under two weeks."

"Wow…"

"But if it makes you feel any better, I was only awake for like…" he hesitated. " Two day's worth. Give or take."

Shaking his head, John muttered. "That's long enough. So how was the binding magic undone?"

"Um…"Dean gave Sam an apologetic shrug. " Exorcism first, burns the symbol off later."

"Not before I improved your face," Sam said sarcastically.

John shook his head yet again. "Well how come it took you so long to tell he was possessed?" He looked to Dean.

"Well Meg was a very good little actress." Even more bitterness. "Very good."

"Sam…"Dean's voice was both warning and apologetic.

Sam huffed again. "Whatever. That was a long time ago." He looked to Dean. "And I'm not in the mood for the 'who has the best scar?' contest."

Dean shrugged, faking disappointment. "Just cause you know I'd win." He pulled up his sleeve over his shoulder to show his handprint scar left by Castiel.

"Dean…"Sam shook his head as John's face took on a 'What the heck?' look. " I was being sarcastic. And seriously, you really want to play this game?"

Dean thought of Sam's scar where he got stabbed. He had forgot about that. "No, I guess not…"

"This is fun and all…"John looked to both boys with weird looks. " But I have no clue what you're talking about. First of all Dean, what the hell is on your arm, and Sam, what do you mean?"

"I think," Sam interrupted just as Dean was about to speak. "That we should start from the beginning. There's…"He hesitated. "There are a lot of things you need to know dad. About both of us."


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean…"John looked from Sam to Dean, then back.

"Well after you…"Dean cleared his throat. " After you died, we went to go see the Harvels. Ellen and Jo. Your cell phone had a message from Ellen saying she could help you with something, and we wanted to find out what. Anyways, after a few hunts, fights and so forth, the roadhouse was burnt to the house by some demons. Ellen was there when the devils gate opened. Both of them survived."

"We also ran into a hunter named Gordon Walker." Sam cut in, trying to tell their story in order. "That didn't' go to well."

"Ah…"John sighed. " I've heard of him. Not the nicest hunter on the planet."

"There were various monsters, ghouls, goblins, you know the drill." Dean continued. "Vampires that don't drink human blood, werewolves that aren't aware, tricksters, clowns that eat people, and even a single good demon."

John had been listening intently, nodding here, making a noise of surprise or agreement there, but then he hesitated. "A demon…that's _good_? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Nope." Sam shook his head. "But she's still manipulative, bossy and one hell of a bitch. Typical demon."

"And you're one-hundred percent sure she's actually good?" John wasn't sure he believed it.

"Sadly, Yes. She's saved our lives multiple times for over a year, and helped us go after a very powerful demon." Dean didn't seem happy about it. "Although I hope for her sake we never meet again."

"The same year you died…"Sam backtracked a little so John could get the full picture, continuing from where they left off. " We came in contact with others who made demon-deals, and managed to get one man free."

John was a little uncomfortable that his deal was common knowledge to the boys, but at least he didn't have to explain himself.

"We also met some people…"Sam looked to Dean. " Some people who, like me, had different types of psychic abilities."

Dean noticed that John was a little surprised to hear this, but Dean knew that John had been aware. Still, he was surprised that Sam had been so easy to let go of this information.

"These people all shared a few key qualities. They were all the same age, and they all lost their mothers in a nursery fire on their six-month birthday." Sam hesitated. "Am I boring you?"  
"No," John said slowly. "Just the opposite."

"I didn't think it would," Sam replied, almost inaudibly.

"So what ever happened to all the other psychics?"

"Dead. They were _all_ murdered in some form or other, whether by other psychics, themselves, hunters, the list is endless. Heck, Gordon went after a few of them."

"And what happened to Gordon."

"He got turned into a vampire, the thing he hates the most." Dean took up thse slack for Sam. "And then decided he wanted to eat us." He gestured to his brother. "But Sam here took care of that."

"Dean…"

"You did! I mean _I_ was toast, so somebody had to do the job, but I was impressed." He looked to John. "Ever taken out a vampire with no weapon?"

John raised his eyebrows, looking to Sam. "Really? No weapon?"

"Barbed wire actually." Dean cut in again.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, why does this story interest you so much? Its no big deal or anything."

"Because it's I need to prove to Dad here that you can actually do anything," Dean laughed. "And that Gordon took _me_ down when I _had_ a weapon, and it wasn't my guts he wanted speared on the floor."

"You're a poet Dean. Can we move on?"

"Fine. How about we talk about the psychics some more?" Dean sighed sarcastically.

John wasn't sure what to say. He frowned. "Wait… so if all the psychics died off, than how did you get out alive? You said Gordon wasn't the only threat."

Sam hesitated. "Well I" –

There was a knock on the door.

Sam walked to the door, and looked in the peephole. "Crap."

"What?" Dean cut in.

"Ruby."

Dean walked towards the door. "Son of a" –

"I got this." Sam held out a hand to stop his brother, than unlocked the door and stepped outside, shutting it firmly behind him.

"How's the family?" Ruby gave Sam a cheap smile.

"What do you want now Ruby?"

Ruby looked to the window, and then followed Sam as he walked further into the parking lot so they could talk in private. "I was just wondering whether John Winchester himself was really as amazing as they all say. You're father's a legend Sam."

"I know what he is. I'm not in the mood to play games Ruby."

"Who's playing games? I was just wondering" –

"How did you know anyhow Ruby? We just found out _tonight_ that he's alive."

"I'm a demon. That's my job."

"Stop following me dammit!" Sam shook his head angrily.

Ruby faked sadness. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Oh so this is a joke for you is it?"

"Nope," Ruby made her way past Sam, heading towards the hotel door. "Just some civil conversation."

"And where do you think you're going?" Sam cut her off in front of the door.

"Inside. You going to stop me?" Ruby pushed him back with that superhuman strength that demons possessed. "I thought not."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The door opened again, and the woman that John had seen earlier entered the room. She carried herself with a confident air, almost to confident.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Dean obviously didn't like this girl.

The woman and Dean looked at each other with shared contempt. "Good to see you missed me."

Sam hurried into the room, assessing the situation. "Ruby what are" –

"Save it." She ignored Sam, and then turned her head slowly to look at John. "John Winchester himself. I should mark this date on my calendar."

John wasn't sure if she was mocking him or not. "In the flesh. And you are Ruby, I take it?"

"Right you are." Ruby looked to Sam. "You already told him about me?"

Sam huffed. "You assume it was me."

John scowled. "Are you two…?"

"No, our relationship is merely physical." Ruby put an arm around Sam.

"Hilarious." Sam sighed sarcastically, shrugged off Ruby's arm, and pushing her away. "Get off me."

"So… Ruby." John cleared his throat. "What do you want?"  
"When Bobby asked me that, I think I said 'peace on earth'. Good enough answer?"

John, if anything, admired her bravado. "No."

"Now I see why you boys are so stubborn." Ruby glared at Dean, then turned back to John. "No offense."

"None taken. But you didn't answer my question."

Ruby ignored John, and paced the room a little bit. "You've got to love family reunions. Especially resurrections. You Winchesters just never die." She looked straight at Dean. "Almost like cockroaches. Kill them and they just pop right back up out of the gutter."

Dean took a step towards Ruby, but Sam held out a hand to stop him. "Okay Ruby, you've had your fun." Sam glared down at her. "Now go home."

"I still need one more thing," She turned to look at Sam. "I want my knife."

John had no clue what Ruby was talking about, but he saw that Sam was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I said," Ruby's voice was edgy. "I want my knife."

"Why he hell would we give you our only demon killing machine?" Dean scoffed, looking Ruby over.

"You already have one." Ruby gave Sam the once-over, and John wondered what she was talking about.

"You're not getting the knife." Sam's voice was calm, unlike Dean's, but it was clear he wasn't playing games. "End of story."

"Why you ungrateful son of a" –

"I said end of story." Sam didn't let her finish, but opened the door to signal her exit. "Now, if you will excuse me, we have better things to talk about than your sick revenge."

Ruby glared at Sam for a moment, then took a swing and hit Sam as hard as she could. John was amazed. That girl had quite an arm… almost too good.

Sam wiped a bit of blood away from his mouth and scowled down at his attacker. "The only reason you aren't dead right now is that I pity the poor woman you're possessing."

_That is the good demon? Are you kidding me!? _

Ruby took a few steps towards the door, then sighed and turned around slowly. "At least you'll have that little twig of a knife next time Lilith decides she wants your head on a pike."

"Or maybe I'll just use it on you."

"You said that about the colt too. The gun _I_ fixed for you. And now_ my_ knife. Tisk Tisk… And you think _I'm_ the untrustworthy one? Too bad you don't have the guts." She looked to John, who replied the look with both confusion and dislike. "It was a pleasure meeting you John." Her voice was lathered with dishonesty. "It's a good thing that your sons have someone to watch their back again." She tossed Sam a threatening glare. "They were stepping out of line." With that little speech, Ruby walked out, and Dean slammed the door behind her.

_What the…_ John looked from one son to the other; unsure of what had just occurred. _Looks like I missed more than I thought._


	4. Chapter 4

Sam looked to Dean, then his father with a sigh. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, tasting blood. The fact that Ruby had abnormal strength still surprised him, but Sam wasn't exactly prepared to hit her back either. He didn't want to hurt whoever she was possessing. And Sam wasn't going to exorcise her either… She was still "good" in her own way. And God forbid John should ever see him use his powers. Sam was uncomfortable enough with the way Dean looked at him… He wondered how John would react when Sam told him about everything. _Yeah dad, I know you told Dean you might have to kill me. I know about everything. I'm not even completely human. And yes, I use my powers. So, did you miss me dad?_

"Well…"Dean huffed, breaking the awkward silence. " What a wonderful welcome. I always hated her…"

"She has her purpose…"Sam argued tiredly.

"Yeah, target practice," Dean vented. "Who does she think she is?"

"I don't know," Sam agreed. "But I'm sick of it." Sam looked to John, who hadn't said anything since Ruby left. "…Any comments dad?"

John looked a little stunned. "That was… interesting. So _that_ is this 'good' demon that you were talking about?"

"Good and nice are two different things…"Sam sighed. " She will save your life, than bitch about it for weeks."

"I've noticed. So what is all this about a knife?"

"This knife," Dean gestured to Sam, who pulled it from a little sheath at his side. "Can kill Demons. It's silver, so it also serves its purpose otherwise, although we save it for exorcisms. It's like the colt."

"Ruby mentioned something about fixing the colt. You managed to fix it?"

"Ruby did this whole witchcraft thing and it works again." Dean shrugged. "Not that it will do us any good."

"And why is that?"

Sam hesitated. "It is now in the hands of Lilith, who makes Ruby look like Mary Poppins in comparison."

"What?!" John couldn't believe it. "You lost the colt?"

"It was stolen by a miss Bella Talbot, who is _downstairs_ as we speak." Dean pointed down at the ground.

"Bella…"John paused. " Never heard of her. So this Bella character just handed over the colt to a demon?"

"She didn't have a choice," Sam said reluctantly. "Bella was on hell's doorstep with less than a day left and Lilith tricked her into thinking she was going to help."

"Still…"Dean grumbled.

"And who is Lilith?"

Sam paused, and Dean did the same. "She's the new Azazel," Sam said honestly. "She is doing anything she can to bring on the apocalypse. Anything. She holds all demon deals. All of them." Sam looked to John knowingly, then checked his watch. "So I don't know about you guys, but it's late, and I'm tired. Dad, we have tons of time to tell you all about how _wonderful_ the world's become, but not tonight. I'll go get an extra cot from the people down in the lobby. You can have my bed for tonight."

"Thanks Sam." John gave his son a smile, which Sam returned, if not sadly.

"Yeah. No problem." Sam closed the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean awoke to the sound of… nothing. He looked around. Why had he woken up? Sitting up, Dean found out. Castiel was standing near the door, waiting with quiet patience.

"Hello Dean." Castiel nodded his head in greeting, and Dean looked around. Sam and John were still asleep. "Don't worry," Castiel seemed to read Dean's thoughts. "They won't wake up while I'm here."

Dean looked to his father sleeping in the other bed. He still couldn't believe John was back! "Did… Did you do this?" He looked back to Castiel.

"Your father is one of the worlds best hunters." Castiel looked to John calmly. "He possesses skill and good judgment that many lack in these times."

"I know…."Dean answered impatiently. " I'm not sure where you're going with this. What does" –

"Did you think that you were the only useful one?" Castiel still didn't look at Dean. Dean hated how he was always so calm. "Yes, I dragged John out of hell."

"Why?"

"First of all, because he, like you, can help us stop Lilith from breaking the sixty six seals. And second of all, because he is your father." Castiel moved his eyes from John's face to Dean's.

Dean was confused. _You brought him back because he's my father? _"I still don't" –

"Recently you told me that I was foolish in going into an order blindly."

"I think the exact word I used was 'hammer'." I didn't say _that_ exactly…  
"But you meant it. And I replied by pointing out that you also would follow the words of your father without question. Am I speaking falsely?"

"No…"Dean looked to John, still expecting him to wake up any second now. " But I still don't get it. You brought my dad back so I will listen to him?"

Castiel shook his head slowly. "You misunderstand me Dean. When I told you that I am not, in fact, a 'hammer', I also told you that I do not envy the weight on your shoulders." He looked pointedly to Sam, and Dean's eyes followed.

"Sam's a good person." Dean frowned at Sam. "So he's made a few mistakes…"

"I never made any accusations against your brother, Dean." Castiel argued. "I, unlike some of my brothers, smite no man without good reason. I know as well as you do the good in Sam's soul."

"Than what do you want us to do? Why are you here?"

"To tell you the truth." Castiel sighed, and Dean realized how much of a burden Castiel had on his shoulders also. "That I do not know everything. I do _not_ know what will become of your brother, or this apocalypse." He hesitated. "War, genocide, plague… What you on earth have both caused and suffered is a trifle compared to what's coming to us _all_ if we fail. We are both in the same boat here Dean. We are two soldiers trying to save this world from Lucifer. From hell… I think we both need the guidance of our fathers now."

Dean hesitated. "Thank you…"

Castiel looked around, as if sensing his surroundings for the first time. He frowned at the air, as if poison drifted throughout it. "A demon was here."

"Her," Dean started slowly, hesitating. "Her name is Ruby."

"And did you kill her?"

"No. We didn't need to." Dean tried a different course. "For more than a year now, she has been saving our lives. She kills other demons."

Pausing, Castiel seemed to contemplate this information. "Be careful Dean. This is not what you need right now."

"I know…"He looked up to say more, but Castiel was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam looked up to his reflection in the mirror, his hands on the sink. John and Dean were still asleep, and Sam figured he would try and steal the first shower before they woke up. The steam from the shower still filled the bathroom, and his bangs hung down in strings from his forehead. He pushed them back with a sigh, frowning. Dad was back. That was a good thing, wasn't it? _Of course it is. It's dad!_ Somehow, Sam was more worried than ever. Dean had been resurrected because of Sam. That was the cold truth. Castiel had needed Dean to stop Sam from exorcising Demons with his mind. That was a low enough blow. Now John was back too? It wasn't Sam's fault that the demon of Samuel Hanes had been raised… What was he supposed to do, just sit there and let him bring on the end of the world? Of course Sam had to exorcise him… didn't he? Was this really necessary to send in "back up" or something? _I'm trying Damnit! What the hell am I supposed to do?!_

A sense of déjà vu hit Sam as he looked at his reflection. He had been here before, and it always came down to _the_ _secret_. The secret, told unto Dean by dad, had changed everybody's lives forever. Especially Sam's. He loved his family to death, but they would never understand. Never. Dean didn't understand, and Dad wouldn't either.

A knocking emitted in the room, followed by Dean's voice. "Sam you going to take all day in there or what?"

Sam turned to look at the door. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't know anyone was up."

Dean must have heard the worry in Sam's voice, and he hesitated. "Alright."

When Sam opened the door, Dean greeted him with a nod.

"Where's dad?" Sam looked around.

"Out for a drive," Dean shrugged. "It's been a long time since he's been in the Impala. He promised to bring back coffee and breakfast."

"Sounds good." Sam got out of Dean's way, and turned on the TV. As usual, daytime TV offered Sam nothing but news.

"…And the young couple was found two miles from their grave beds, much to the dismay of local public officials…"The newscaster continued to mention that the couple were on their honeymoon when they had been murdered, and now their "relocated" corpses stunted local officials. Sam frowned. Possessions. The demons that had obviously possessed those poor people's bodies would be long gone by now, but Sam still felt himself shiver and clench his fists in anger. He hated demons more than anything else he had ever hunted, maybe out of spite because he had demon blood in him. But he wasn't one of them, no, he wasn't and never would be like them. That was probably the one thing he had in common with Ruby. They were both outcasts of their race. Sam wasn't even completely human. But still, Ruby was good. _For the most part…_

Sam suffered through more news of robberies, murders, kidnappings, and when he couldn't take it anymore, he shut off the TV. What had this world come to?

"Good to see you up," John opened the door with a smile. Because his clothes had been tattered and torn when he had appeared to Sam in that alley, Dean had given him a change of clothes to last him until they could buy him some new ones. But John had managed to salvage his leather jacket. It was scary how much Dean took after him. John handed him a bag from the local restaurant, and Sam pulled out a sandwich and coffee. "And I'm glad you boys took so good care of the car. I knew I was doing the right thing giving it to your brother."

"Somebody's in a good mood." Sam smiled, and John took a seat beside him on the other bed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" John took a big sip of his coffee. "I'm alive and with my son's again, just like the good old days. This is a miracle."

"Yeah, it is," Sam agreed, taking a bit of his sandwich. _Except for the "good old days" part._

"So…"John turned to face Sam, looking at him expectantly.

"So…"Sam nodded uncomfortably. _What?_

"How…"John frowned for a second, looking Sam over. " You look good kid. How have you been doing?"

Sam was taken by surprise. He didn't' want to lie, but he thought that Dean should be there when the shit hit the fan. "Er… I don't know what to say dad," he admitted. "Everything, I guess. That's not a very good answer, is it?"

"No, not really." John hesitated. "I know we really didn't part on the best of terms and all" –

"Dad, don't even say that," Sam argued. "Water under a bridge. I mean, we always fight, it's just who we are."

"Well I'm sorry I never said a proper goodbye to you Sam." John continued. "I know I've always been tough on you, and that we _do_ fight a lot. I would have said something if I could."

"I know. It's … It's okay dad." _But you did say something, to Dean. How hard is it to just say "Good job son. Good fight!"?_

John didn't seem satisfied, but he let the subject drop. "I was wondering," He looked around the room awkwardly, and Sam was somehow comforted that he wasn't the only one in this situation. "What Ruby meant when she said that Winchesters were like cockroaches. She said that 'you kill them and they just pop out of the gutter' or something like that. Did… Did something else happen Sam?" He looked up to meet Sam's eyes. How could Sam lie to that? Not that he ever planned too…

"Yeah," Sam frowned, nodding at the ground. "Quite a bit happened actually."

"I was almost afraid you would say that."

"Well I guess the first thing you should know…"Sam shuffled a little bit, adjusting his position sitting on the bed. "I know what you told Dean, the day you died." Sam still didn't look up.

John was quiet. "For how long?"

"A few years now," Sam sighed. "I want you to know that I don't blame you. I" –

"Sam…"John clearly wanted to shut Sam up, but didn't know what to say.

"No! Just listen. I need to say this. Dad, you were doing the right thing. You are always thinking in our best interests and" –

"Well it didn't feel like it at the time."

Sam paused. He had probably never seen his dad show this much vulnerability in a long time. But of course, as is the true Winchester way, it would be gone in a matter of seconds. "I know. I know you were doing what you thought is right. I just…"He hesitated again. "I just wish you would have told me, you know… I mean, I'm sure it would have been better finding out that way."

"As opposed to what?" John looked up. "How, er, did you find out?"

"I managed to get the secret out of Dean," Sam admitted. "But most of it I found out on my own."

John sighed, pausing.

"Dad…"Sam scowled, ignoring John's eyes. " How long did you know? About me."

Sighing again, John took another sip of his coffee. "A very long time Sam."

"And you didn't care?" Sam looked down to his own drink, and forced down a gulp to steady himself. "I mean, how could you live with that?"

"Of course I care Sam." John shook his head sadly. "How could I not? You're my son, my blood. I love you. Of course I care."

_Your blood? Are you sure? _Sam didn't say anything for a minute. "I just wish you could have told me. I've always been a freak, but it wasn't exactly comforting to learn the truth from yellow-eyes himself."

John's frown deepened, and he hesitated. "How?"

"You don't want to know. I think he called it 'instant replay'."

"Sam…"John sighed deeply, looking down. " I'm sorry. I wish I had told you. It was just…"

"How did _you_ find out?" The thought had just come to Sam. Now he really wanted to know.

John didn't say anything. Maybe Sam should ask again later…

"Do you ever wish she had told you upfront? Mom, I mean. About what happened."

John finally looked up. "Mary? What does she have to do with all this?"

Sam was shocked. "I thought you _knew_ about the deal!"

"What deal?"

Sam took another, deeper swig of his coffee. _Oh boy…_ "I guess we have _a lot _to talk about dad."

"Looks like. So what's this about a deal?"

"Kind of runs in the family I guess…"Sam changed the subject. Both his and his brother's deaths and deals were a discussion for later. "Dad," Sam looked up to meet his father's eyes. "You weren't the first hunter in the family."


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh my god…"John sat with his head in his hands, thinking. Sam had just finished telling him about Mary.

"I know." Sam nodded. "Surreal, isn't it?"

"I just can't believe" –

Dean opened the door to leave the bathroom, and paused in the doorway when he saw the look on John and Sam's faces. "Did I miss something?"

John looked to Dean, still baffled.

"You told him something, didn't you Sam? Common man! We are supposed to do this together!"

John licked his lips, as if trying to speak. He cleared his throat. "Mary was a hunter?" He looked to Dean.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. "That's it? That's what you told him?"

"I knew you'd kill me if I did anything else." Sam held out Dean's breakfast, and Dean took it with a hungry look.

"Damn straight." He dug into his sandwich.

"But… Mary? I can't believe it. She never let on to anything. Never. She was the most normal person I'd ever met."

"She wanted to protect you," Dean offered. "All of us. She told me that she didn't want her family to become hunters."

"We definitely followed that rule…"Sam sighed with a hint of sarcasm.

"So, that's all you guys talked about?" Dean asked again.

"I also told dad about that waitress in Florida," Sam joked.

"And we settled some things." John gave Sam a small smile.

Dean paused mid-bite. "Like…?"

"Stuff…"Sam returned the smile to John. He might not understand, but at least he was supportive. _So far…_

"Dad?" Dean looked to John now, his sandwich still frozen in his hand.

John shook his head, still smiling.

"I think…"Sam hesitated, tilting his head to one side in mock thought. "I think dad has a new favorite."

"Oh shut up" –

"I never had favorites." –

"Yeah sure dad!"

"So I'm not the" –

"I call shotgun!" –

"Dad, that is still my seat!" –

They all hesitated, trying not to choke on their food from laughing to hard. It had been so long since they had laughed at a good joke, especially not together. It felt good to act like children for once. It felt good to be together again.

"So…"John leaned back, taking another sip. " Let's hear it. What else do you have to tell me?"

Sam looked to Dean with hesitancy. Eventually, he stifled a smile. "Dean, I think it's your turn."

"No, no. It's still your turn."

"I don't think so."

Dean's face lit up when something came to him, but he also hid a smile, wishing to taunt Sam with it. "Well… I did run into a friend of ours last night…"

"Rebecca?" Sam didn't take the bait.

"Who?" Dean hesitated. "Oh yeah! She was hot! But no, I don't mean that kind of friend." He grinned at the thought. "Anyhow, I saw Castiel last night."

"What?" Sam was both exited and worried. He looked like a kid who wanted to open his Christmas present but was afraid of what was inside. "What did he say?"

"Um, I'm still here!" John waved a hand in the air to get their attention. "Who the hell is Castiel?"

"I think you mean 'what the heck' dad," Dean said jokingly. "Castiel is an angel."

"A… A what?!"

"Told you," Sam said back. He couldn't resist.

"An angel!"

"What did he say?" Sam asked again.

"That he is solely responsible for dadio here coming back. That rules out the search we were going to have to do."

"I didn't know this was a two-for-one deal," Sam joked.

"I don't know about" –

"Are you trying to tell me an _angel_ dragged me out of hell?!"

Dean hesitated. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think," Sam interrupted. "That we need to start at the beginning. Or… where we left off I guess."

"Story time!" Dean rolled his eyes in mocking.

"Shut up!" Sam glared at Dean, but hesitated. His expression sobered.

"So what happened?" John waited expectantly.

"Well it was after the whole possession thing…"Dean started rather hesitantly.

"And after the genie thing…" Sam added, still unsure.

"So we were outside this restaurant…"Dean started, sensing where Sam was going and what story he was going to tell. " We separated for like, five minutes. Sam went in to get some food, and I waited in the car. But when I looked in, it was quiet all of a sudden. I went in and everyone was dead. There was sulfur everywhere, and Sam was long gone. I called Bobby, and we drove everywhere looking for him, but there were no omens whatsoever. The map was clean."

John didn't say anything. He just listened intently. Waiting.

"Meanwhile," Sam continued. "I woke up in some long-dead ghost town. There were four others there, what was left of the psychic kids. Andy Giliger, Ava Wilson, Jake and I think Amy. Ava had visions, like me. Andy had mind control, although he was one of the nicest people in the world. Jake had super strength, and Amy could give people heart attacks by touching them. No one had a clue why we were there, or how we got there. Our phones didn't' work or anything. It was the middle of nowhere.

"Coincidentally, I was the only hunter there, so I got to play ringleader," Sam sighed sarcastically. "We got some salt and barricaded ourselves in this house, waiting for whatever was going to happen." Sam came to a halt, unsure how much of his ordeal with yellow-eyes needed to be revealed.

"It was a contest." Dean seemed to read Sam's mind, giving him an escape by moving on. "Organized by Azazel. In short, put all the psychics together and let them fight it out until one makes it out alive."

John's eyes moved to Sam. It was clear what he was thinking. It was something along the lines of _so Sam made it then? He was the one that survived_?

"Yellow-eyes basically liked to play the manipulator. Typical demon." Sam started again. "Appeared to us alone randomly, told us how it was. Well Amy wasn't there for that little quick-pro-quo. She tried to run away, and an achila got to her. Than Ava disappeared, and Jake and I tried to get to her first so she wouldn't suffer the same fate. We needed to come up with a plan, but her running away kind of ruined it. Turns out she snuck back in, did some summoning, and did away with Andy."

Dean sighed. "I always liked that guy."

"Yeah. Well than Ava went after me, but Jake took her out before she managed to do it. Than we left, and Jake started talking about how we both couldn't leave. He was so afraid that yellow-eyes was going to get him, but I said we would go after him together." Sam knew he was rambling, but his ordeal in that place was one of his worst memories, and it was hard to tell the story at all. "Anyhow, Jake went all superman on me, but after a while I managed to knock him out with some kind of pipe. Then, I turned around and there was Dean and Bobby."

John, who had been listening quietly, stuck in his own head the entire time, looked up when Sam had stopped. "What happened then?"

Sam hesitated, than removed his jacket. "That's all I remember." He turned around and lifted the back of his shirt to show the long deep scar on his back, crossing across his spine. He heard John gasp a little bit. "What I was told, he stabbed me." Sam continued.

"Broke your spinal cord in half, actually." Dean's voice was quiet and hoarse. Sam didn't even have to imagine how Dean felt when that happened. Sam had suffered through the same thing with Dean. "Hit a couple major arteries…"  
Sam nodded at the ground, and noticed that Dean was avoiding his eyes too. " I um…"

"He died." Dean interrupted, his voice strong with emotion. "There was nothing I could do…"He also faded away.

"And you made a deal, didn't you?" John's voice was also rugged, and stood up sadly. "How could you do that?"

"Don't you say that," Dean said back angrily, tears welling up in his eyes. "You of all people. How could I not?"

"How long did you get?!"

Sam still didn't look up. There was nothing he could say.

"One year…"

"Damnit Dean!" John's voice was filled with fear. Sam knew John's worst fears already. The first was seeing his loved ones in hell, and the second was seeing Sam go evil. They weren't that different either, Sam noticed with cold distain. Everyone had such high expectations of him, didn't they?

"I already served it dad!" Dean shouted back angrily. "Sam and I fought over it for a whole year, and Lilith killed me. I was there for four months before Castiel pulled me out!"  
" And you just _neglected_ to tell me this?"

"Yeah dad, I saw you back from the dead _yesterday_. My first words aren't going to be 'Hey dad, you're back from hell, just like me!'"

"Geez Dean, anything else I should know about?! It's hell Dean! How could you do that to yourself?!"

Sam's head overflowed with similar discussions with Dean, only over different things. _"Geez Sam, anything else I should know about?"_

"You know what? You're both hypocrites!" Sam finally stood up, and both guys looked at him with confused looks. "No, I haven't made a deal. But I've sure as hell tried. Dad you had what, two days without Dean? And Dean, I was dead for less than twenty-four hours. But Dean was Dead for four months. And dad, you were dead for two years. No, I've never been to hell. But I'm the only one who actually remembers the time spent when you two were gone, and hell on earth was as close as I could actually get."

John and Dean both stood staring at Sam for a minute, unsure what to say.

"Sam I'm…"John started, but Sam cut him off.

"And dad, of course he made the deal. I was pissed at him everyday for it, but you of all people would understand. And you know what? I was there everyday when you told him to watch out for me. That's all you ever did. And look what happened!"

Dean cut Sam off. "Sam I had to!"

"Well did you ever think about what was going to happen when you died? Or when you died dad?"

"Sam…"Dean's voice was quiet, and John was too stunned to say anything.

"Did you ever think about the fact that I was left here in this crap-hole of a world knowing that you two were in hell? Kind of put a bit of a flaw in your plan, didn't it? No one left to look after dangerous little Sammy!"

"Damnit Sam, shut up!" Dean looked up with tears in his eyes."

"But you know what," Sam huffed, his voice quieting too, but in a more dangerous way. "Maybe I was wrong to get mad. Why don't we settle the score a bit and tell some of _my_ secrets, huh." He looked to Dean. "Why don't you tell dad what I was doing those four months when you were in hell, because I absolutely love hearing your version! Or better yet, there was the time when I was possessed and you couldn't even tell. You just thought that Sam finally went dark side! Well thanks for supporting me everyone! " Sam stormed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean took a step after Sam, but Sam's glare stopped him.

Sam opened the door, and turned around for a moment. "For a drink. Alone."

"It's ten o'clock!"

"Just playing the part Dean. Doesn't that suit me?" He slammed the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam stood outside the door to the bar, thinking. He had been unfair to Dean and his dad. He knew that. It was clear, Sam would never know what they had been through, but both deals were still open wounds to all of them. And Sam didn't really understand why he had brought his powers into this. He was just angry. It wasn't something intentional. But still…

He hadn't wanted to say it, but it didn't help him stay calm knowing that Dean remembered everything that happened to him in the pit. And Dean didn't want to talk about it. He had made that clear on their last hunt. Dean full out did _not_ want to talk about it. He refused to let Sam help him. _And after all the times Dean wanted me to talk about my powers…_ Sam shook his head, deep in thought. Dean wanted to know so badly why. Why did all this happen? Why did Sam do all this? Well it wasn't the same thing as hell. Not just anybody could experience it. Sam wasn't even completely human. How could he explain how he was, what he did? All it would have taken was a single gunshot or knife wound to switch what would have happened with the deal. If it had been the other way around, and Dean had died, Sam would have done the exact same thing. Not that Sam didn't' appreciate what Dean had done for him. Dean had given him his life back, given him everything at a great cost. But Dean never could have shouldered this burden. Azazel had meant for it to be Sam, and Sam alone to be this way. _Lucky me…_

Looking to the door again, Sam let his head fall. He didn't want to go in. That wouldn't help anything. Looking up, Sam saw the peak of the local church breaking the sky a few blocks away. Since they had been in this town, Sam had been there three times, but hadn't told Dean. Even after meeting angels, Dean still didn't have much faith. Sam's wasn't absolute, but he wasn't going to give up. And it would likely do him more good than going to the bar right now. With a sigh, Sam changed his course of direction.

Sam tried to stifle his footsteps as he stepped into the church, his boots echoing patterns in the cold hardwood floor inside the large building. No one was there, but Sam still felt weird. Dirty. Maybe it was just the awareness of his demon-blood in him. He felt so unwanted there, even though _he_ still wanted to be there. He was an outcast either way.

Although most of the lights were turned off, a grouping of candles still burned near the altar. Sam's eyes followed the flickering flames, although he did not step closer. He slid into a pew near the back, looking around him. Stained glass windows were covered with pictures from scripture, many of them being of angels. It was funny seeing them so peaceful, especially after meeting Castiel and Uriel. _They_ weren't peaceful. _Especially not Uriel. _Sam remembered when he had first met Uriel, how freaked out he had been.

_"Uriel here is a specialist."_

_"A specialist in what… What are you going to do?"_

The answer had surprised Sam, but it had been nothing compared to what Sam had been expecting. He had, at first, thought that they had come for him. Uriel hated Sam; that much was clear, and Sam was afraid that Uriel _might_ one day decide to come for him. _"The only reason that you are alive Sam Winchester, is because you are useful. The reason that that ceases to be true, I will turn you into dust."_

Sam hadn't told Dean what Uriel had said. First off, he had been terrified out of his wits. Secondly, he didn't want to worry Dean. _And besides,_ Sam thought to himself, _It's too late now._

A sound in the distance brought Sam back to reality, and he heard someone bustling around in other rooms. Maybe the priest was in. _Of course he's in! It's a church!_

Sam stood slowly as an idea came to him. Making his way out of the pews, he found the little confession booth. _I must be crazy._ Sam shook his head at himself, but still shut the door and knelt down on the little cushion-thing. _What am I supposed to say? _Sam looked around the enclosed space around him, wondering whether he should back out, and was just about to stand up when the grid slid aside, revealing the lattice. Sam let himself sink back to his knees, uncertain of what to do next.

The father waited for Sam to speak, his face barely visible through the screen.

_What do I say?_ Sam's mouth felt dry. He hadn't done this in so long. "Bless me father, for I have, uh, sinned." Sam stumbled through the unfamiliar phrase, feeling like a fool.

"When was your last confession?"

"A few years, I guess…"Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. _A week before Jess died._

The father was seen nodding through the lattice, although Sam still couldn't make out his face. "And what would you wish to confess?"

_I don't know… What can I?_ Sam hesitated. _This was a bad idea. _"I… I'm not sure father. I guess I just needed to vent."

"Is there something bothering you son?"

"Well I was… I just had a big fight with my brother and my dad. I mean, it was pretty bad. We all said some things… I just had to get out of there."

"What was this fight about?"

Sam paused, wondering what he should say, and how to word what he _did_ say. But of course, he couldn't say what he _wanted_ to say. "A bunch of things… My brother and I, we don't see our father much. We haven't seen him in almost two years now, and last night he just showed up out of the blue. A lot of old issues just came up, and I guess there are a lot of things we still haven't settled… My father and I fight a lot," He admitted. "We care for each other and everything, but we just fight too much. And Dean was part of it too, and it didn't end well."

"Dean is your brother, I take it?" The tone in the priest's voice told Sam that he wasn't satisfied with Sam's answer. He knew Sam was hiding what was really upsetting him, but didn't want to push the subject.

"Yeah."

"And what were you fighting about?"

"Well a bunch of stuff I guess. Some stuff has happened to our family lately that has left some scars I guess…"

"Of what sort?"

"I… I'd rather not say father." Sam hesitated. "I guess I just… We've all changed so much, and it's hard not to think that he's disappointed in us. In me. I mean, I know he's my dad, and he'll always love me, but it seems like I'm a disappointment because I'm not the man he wanted me to be. I've made tons of mistakes, and I've done stuff I'm not happy about. I was supposed to finish law school and become this big lawyer and not be the freak of the family for once. Of course, that didn't happen." Sam sighed. "And now dad's back, and it seems like everything we do is wrong. And we haven't exactly had it easy. My brother's had it just as bad, if not worse, than me, and than dad just comes back and expects… I don't even know what he was expecting from us. I just imagined that if this day happened, he would be proud of us, but he's always so worried about everything that's happened. He's already done all these things, but it's like we aren't allowed to make the same mistakes. It's like…"Sam hesitated.

"Sometimes when a parent sees his children grow up without him, it's a hard thing," the priest offered. "They hope that their children wont make the same mistakes that they did, and it can make them doubt themselves. Two years is a long time son, long enough for you and your brother to grow up. Your father might have been too surprised at the change to react properly at everything that has happened in your lives."

"I never really thought of that," Sam admitted. "I know we have changed a lot, and that does make sense, but…"

"But what?"

"It just feels like I'm a disappointment. I found out some things recently, and it just feels like he's been waiting for this to happen, you know? Like he expected me to fail without him… And he's not wrong. I just wish that I didn't have to feel ashamed of myself for everything, even when I didn't do anything wrong. Even just being here, in this church… I'm the only one in my family who actually knows that I have faith, and to them its just… I don't know… its weak or something." Sam paused. "No offense."

"None taken. So what did your father say before he left that offended you?"

"It's…"Sam hesitated. _That he might have to kill me._ "It's not really about what he said…It's water under a bridge really. But now that he's back, I can still sense the tension, you know? I just wish… I just wish that he had said goodbye. He talked to my brother before he left, but not me. He just took off. I know he hadn't meant for it to turn out that way, but… I guess I just…"

"And you're sure there's nothing else you want to tell me son?" The father continued.

"No… I guess not."

"Nothing on your mind?"

"No…" Sam hesitated, sighing. "Father?"

No response. A hissing sound emitted on the other side of the screen.

"Father?"

Suddenly, A hand broke through the screen in the space of a second, closing around Sam throat. With a surge of superhuman strength, the hand pulled Sam's face against the screen, choking him further.

"Do it." A demon's voice echoed coldly, so out of place in a priest's body. "I dare you. Do it."

Sam hesitated, gasping for breath and fighting against the iron grip around his neck. A demon! How could a demon even be here? This demon must be powerful enough to walk on holy ground.

Sam wasn't supposed to use his powers, he realized with a jolt. And he had the knife. But that would kill the priest… What was he supposed to do?

The demon kept his hold on Sam's throat for what seemed like a decade, and when he finally let his grip go, and Sam slid to the floor, fighting to get air back in his lungs.

"I said _do_ _it_." The demon reached over Sam, his nails digging into Sam's flesh as he pulled him out of the booth and into the room. Still barely breathing, Sam tried to get up, and was met by a kick in the ribs sending him back to the ground. He reached for the knife in his pocket, but the demon wrestled it from his hands. "So sorry…"The demon lifted it in the air as he sent another kick into Sam's side. " _That_ doesn't count. I thought you didn't need this Sam?"

"I don't," Sam choked, trying to get to his feet, but the demon aimed another kick in the ribs and Sam's already drained lungs spazzed at the blow.

"Oh, right!" The demon laughed, a cold piercing laugh that only a demon could behold. "Because you're special, right Sam? One of us."

"I'm not one of you." Sam strained for breath, getting to his hands and knees.

"Close enough." The demon shrugged. "In the end, it won't matter. You're going to join us whether you like it or not anyways."

"I'd rather die than become one of you." Sam was met by a kick in the face, silencing him.

"I think that's the point." The demon knelt down so that he was close to Sam's face. "Do you really think the big man upstairs is going to save you a reservation? With who you are? With what you've done?"

Sam glared back, unable to say anything, partially from his bleeding mouth, and partially because he didn't know what to say.

"You don't even listen to angels, Sam. You run around in the dark with demons and play by your own rules. Angels are threatening to smite you, and you're brother has to be dragged out of the pit just to keep you from doing wrong. Sounds a lot like a demon to me. But _no_, you're Sam Winchester! Big _hero_ that you are. I always loved stories with a good hero."

Sam struggled to get up, but the demon put a foot forcefully on his chest to keep him down. He lifted the knife above his head, sneering. "Especially the one's where the hero dies."


	7. Chapter 7

A thumping on the door brought Dean from his oblivion. He looked up from his newspaper briefly, and John on the other side of the room did the same. Since their big fight, no one had really said anything. They had just waited for Sam to come home.

"Let me in, dammit!" A voice way to high-pitched to belong to Sam emitted from the other side of the door.

_Ruby._

Dean hurried to the door, throwing it open without a care of who heard him. "Now what the hell do you want? I'm not in the mood for a rematch Ruby."

"We have to get out of here." Ruby was breathing heavily, as if she had just ran a mile. "Sam" –

"What happened to Sam?" John stood quickly, joining Dean at the door.

"There's a demon in town." Ruby looked upwards, as if the sky was an obvious clue. "One of Lilith's. I can feel it. We need to find Sam before he does."

Dean and John's eyes met for a fraction of a second, before they grabbed their guns and set off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

_Thud!_ The sound of a door either being kicked down or thrown open hit Sam's ears. The demon's head turned to the noise, and Sam kicked upward, catching the demon in the ribs and sending him to the floor long enough for Sam to pull himself to his feet and grab the knife from the floor.

"Sam!" Dean's voice called out, but Sam didn't look away from the demon, holding the knife in front of him.

"In here!" He shouted in the direction of Dean and John's voices, glaring at the demon. "Don't try anything…"He lowered his voice so only it could hear. " I'm stronger than you. I can do this."

"In front of Dean?" The demon's voice was taunting. "Tisk, tisk. What ever became of innocent little Sammy?"

"He died along with everyone I ever loved." Sam tightened the grip on the knife, and took a step towards the demon.

"But Dean's not the _only_ one who came to watch the show."

"Sam!" John ran in the room, followed by Dean, and the paused when the saw the demon, assessing the situation.

The demon looked to Sam, sneering. "I think I've proved my point."

"Smirk all you want," Dean walked forwards, John on his tail. "It will do you good in hell."

"Oh really? Is that how _you_ two survived it?" The demon's smile widened, and both men glared back angrily.

"I don't know," Dean shook his head angrily. "You can tell me when you get there."

"And how _will_ I be getting there?" The demon turned his head to Sam, raising an eyebrow in false pretense.

Sam adjusted the knife in his hand so the demon could see it. "Try me."

"The old fashioned way then?" The demon laughed. "A conformist, are we?"

"I guess so." Sam took a couple steps towards the demon, and John did the same, Dean swerving around to go on Sam's other side. The wall behind the demon closed in the circle. "It runs in the family."

"Which family?" The demon smiled, looking Sam right in the eye. He flinched, but not out of fear of the demon. "Theirs' or mine?"

"Shut your mouth!" Dean, sensing Sam's hesitancy, moved closer. In his hand was a flask of holy water.

"Going to send me home?" The demon looked to Dean, then to John. "I mean, don't you miss the place?" He looked to Sam next. "You're going to love it Sam. The flames soar nice and high for people like us."

Sam flinched again, before putting on a mask of false comfort. "Well then, I'm sorry I have to reject that invitation. But you're going downstairs alone."

"Really?" The demon raised his head a bit, his eyes turning black. With a flash, he lowered his head, and both John and Dean flew backwards, hitting the walls on either side of Sam.

Sam through John and Dean brief concerned looks before turning back to the demon, who didn't seem surprised that Sam had not hit the wall as well.

"A duel only works with two cowboys," The demon's eyes were still black as he glared at Sam. "And there's isn't room for the both of us in this church, comrade."

Sam noticed that the demon was slowly inching back towards the door. He seemed to know Sam's plan, and wanted to make a break for it before Sam exorcised him. Wondering why the demon did not just abandon the priest's body, Sam jumped at him, but was not fast enough to catch the demon before he made it out the door. The demon raced up a winding stairway, which Sam assumed lead upstairs to the balcony and bell tower. When he got upstairs, he hesitated when he saw that the demon was gone, but then felt the bone-jarring impact as it came out of nowhere and sent him flying to the floor.

The demon punched Sam in the face, and he grabbed the demon's forearm as it swung again, throwing it to the floor beside him as he got to a stand.

"Why wont you just do it?" The demon hissed, it's eyes black again. "Are you that weak? Are you just afraid of what will happen if daddy finds out? Or Dean's little band of angels?"

Sam pulled out the knife, and dove at the demon, but it jumped again, taking him down by the knees.

Sam swung, struggling to gain control of the fight, but the demon kept him pined down. He held out the knife, ready to stab the thing in the gut, but it grabbed his hands, trying to turn the knife the other way. The demon laughed.

Sam bit his lip, hesitating. He knew he couldn't win a feat of strength against a demon for long. He _had_ to exorcise it. Sam gathered his strength, and tried to focus his mind on getting he demon out without using his hand as a projector of the force as he usually did. The demon's laugh turned to a cough for a second, but made him stop with a sharp hit to the gut that felt like a hot poker had been laid across his skin. Sam tried to ignore it, closing his eyes and focusing on the demon's presence itself. He started again, and after a few seconds, he felt the smoke of the demon go past him, and he opened his eyes when it fell limp against him. Sam pushed the body off of him, and got to his knees, feeling the man's neck for a pulse. The priest was alive, luckily.

Sam got to his feet slowly, but felt himself swaying as dizziness clouded his head. He had never exorcised a demon like that before, and never while fighting either. Staggering on his feet like a drunk, Sam leaned against the wall behind him to steady himself and catch his breath. After a few minutes, Sam's breath caught in his throat when he began to feel the hot liquid running down his side. He looked down, trying unsuccessfully to blink away the mental fog. Before the throbbing in Sam's head overcame him and he passed out, he managed to get a glimpse of his side. The demon hadn't punched him, it had stabbed him.


	8. Chapter 8

With a sudden lurch, John felt the invisible force holding him to the wall disappear, and he slunk to the floor, as well as Dean across from him. Pulling himself to a painful stand, he hurried over to Dean, who also stood, nodding to reassure John he was okay. They looked at each other for a moment, getting their breath back, and John noticed that it was unnaturally quiet. With Dean not far behind, they pulled out their guns, and began to inch upstairs.

"Help! Somebody help!" A voice cut into John's silent reverie, and he looked to Dean with worry, before they both ran upstairs without worry of being heard. _Sam._

"Where are you?" Dean shouted, running up the stairs and down a corridor.

"In here!" the man shouted even louder, and the guys rushed towards the room second from the stairs.

Dean got in the doorway first, and John wasn't far behind, but they both stopped dead in their tracks at the scene before them. The priest was knelt over a body – _Sam! _– and looked back to them with horror.

"What happened?" John asked, rushing forwards, and pushing the man none-to-gently out of the way.

"I… I don't know." The priest shook his head. "I just woke up on the floor, and he was" –

"No, no, no…"Dean was pulling aside Sam's jacket, probing a deep wound with is fingers. " Sam… Sam, wake up. I've got you. Sam. Sam!"

"Call an ambulance!" John shouted at the man, who hurried out of the door with a second glance behind him.

Pulling off his jacket, Dean pushed the cloth against Sam's stomach, stifling the blood flow, and put a shaky hand to Sam's neck for a pulse.

John looked around him, and found the bloody knife a few feet away. Letting slip a curse or two, he wiped it on the leg of his pants quickly before strapping it to his ankle as Dean felt yet-again for a pulse, shaking Sam gently as if to wake him. "Sammy…. Sam?"

"They're coming!" The priest hurried back into the room, frowning down at Sam. In his hands were some clean towels and a pitcher of what John assumed to be holy water from the church downstairs.

John took the towels from the man, and pressed one down on Sam's wound, blinking away tears at his son.  
"How long?!" Dean demanded, putting the other towel under Sam's head and clenching his jaw to keep himself from crying. He looked up at the priest with desperation in his eyes.

"Soon. It's a small town. They wont have anywhere else to go. They'll be here soon."

Dean nodded, looking back to Sam. "It's going to be okay little bro." Dean forced a smile, sniffling. "I've got you. It's going to be okay." He cupped Sam's head in his hands, a tear running down his cheek.

"He's going to be okay Dean." John pushed harder on Sam's stomach with the towels, feeling the blood soak through the cloth faster than he expected it would. "It's going to be okay," he said again, to himself. It had to be okay. Sam _had_ to be okay. If Sam's death was the cost of John's resurrection, than he didn't want to be back. No matter what. His sons were everything. Sam couldn't die.

John could hear people running around downstairs, and he looked to the priest. "Go get them. Hurry!"

The priest ran out of the room, and returned moments later with three emergency response medics.

John let himself be pushed out of the way by a tall man with graying hair, and Dean stepped back also.

"How long has he been this way?" A woman with a long nose and black hair took Sam's pulse, and checked him over to see if there were any other wounds anywhere else on his body.

"Not long, I don't think. He was only upstairs for a few minutes, and then someone ran downstairs and the priest shouted for help. We didn't see much of the man." Dean answered.

"And what caused the wound?" The man asked, helping the woman put Sam onto a stretcher along with another man who said almost nothing.

"We don't know," John cut in. "But we tried to get the bleeding under control."

"I'll be the judge of that," the woman followed the men downstairs as the carried the stretcher, Dean and John hurrying behind. "And who are you?"

"I'm Sam's father. I was in the corps for a long time. First aid helps, but I never thought I'd have to use it in a church."

"You'd be surprised." They were already downstairs, and the woman opened the door as the team lifted Sam's limp body onto the table for the stretcher. She gave the men a brief look before hurrying around to the driver's side. "There's room for _one_ of you to ride along," she pointed behind herself to the doors. "But hurry up."

"I've got the keys, I'll meet you there." Dean gestured for John to get in, and hurried to his Impala, although all he wanted to do was jump into that ugly-ass ambulance with his little brother. The sound of sirens deafened the music that came on as Dean turned on the ignition and he sped along close enough behind the vehicle to borrow it's speeding privileges.

_"Listen to me, we're going to patch you up, okay? You're going to be good as new. That's my job, right, take care of my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? SAM!"_

Memories flashed through Dean's mind as realistically as if he was living them then and there. He clenched his jaw as tears flooded his face, swearing inwardly and how much of an idiot he was for letting Sam storm out angrily, for how week he was for not killing the demon when he had the chance, for how horrible he was that he couldn't save his brother's life twice now.

_"You're brother's going down a dangerous road, Dean. So stop it, or we will."_

_"I'm done with it. I'm done with everything."_

_"You shouldn't have made that deal, Dean."_

_"Have you ever thought that if a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"_

_"Remember how you were when dad died Dean, cause I was there. You were twisted, and broken. And now you go and do the same thing, to me. What you did was selfish."_

_"Selfish? I'm okay with that."_

_"Well I'm not."_

_"Too bad. For everything I've done for this family, I think I'm entitled. The truth is, I'm tired Sam. And it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel."_

_"It's hellfire Dean."_

_"Whatever. You're back, and I feel better than I have in a long time."_

_"You were in hell for months, for months. And I was here. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright. Dean, I'm sorry."_

Dean had to put his entire consciousness into _not_ hitting the breaks when it finally hit him. _"And I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright."_ Dean never even thought about it. Could Sam have done it? Could he have sold his sold to bring dad back? Was it just a coincidence?

_NO Dean, dammit. Get you're head out of that place. You're not in hell anymore, and neither is dad, and Sam's never going, _okay_. Sam isn't! He wont! He can't! They wont even take him. It was a stab wound Dean, it's going to be okay. It wont be like last time. Sam is going to be _okay_. He's got to. Sam…_

Still, as Dean drove along behind the ambulance, he couldn't help noticing that the only times he had sunk to this low, this desperate, this freaked, when there was a deal involved. Even if that wasn't the case this time, Sam's life was still on the line.


	9. Chapter 9

"We're here." The grey-haired medic jumped up before the ambulance had even come to a stop, and the doors were thrown open soon after. The stretcher was taken down with ease, and they hurried Sam through the emergency doors, John on their tail.

"How is he doing Rick?" The woman looked over to the younger medic, running along behind the men pushing the stretcher. "Talk to me."

"He's loosing a lot of blood." Rick didn't even look back as they rounded a corner. "If we can't stabilize him fast, we're going to need to find a blood donor match fast."

"Sir," the woman turned back to John as they hurried on, giving him the briefest of looks. "What blood type is your son?"

"I…"John hesitated. _I don't know!_ "Uh… AB I think. I'm not sure."

"Alright, we'll test him," The woman said aloud as the stretcher was pushed through some double doors, and Sam was lifted onto a table. "Any allergies or diseases?"

"No." John shook his head. "He was always a healthy kid."

"Hook him up," the younger man gestured to the other, who pushed an IV into Sam's arm, while the other took a blood sample from the other. Just as quickly, they began to roll the table out of the doors again, into a room that said "Emergency Surgery" above it in big letters.

"What" –

"Please head to the waiting room sir." The woman looked back to John, pointing the other way. "We've got this under control. We'll alert you if anything happens."

"But I" –

John was cut short as the doors swung shut in his face, and as they swung outwardly towards him, he managed to catch a glimpse of Sam's pale face before he was escorted around a corner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What have we got here Marge?" Frank looked up towards his partner as she reeled in a young man of twenty-five or so, pale as a ghost and bleeding like crazy.

"Stab wound to the gut." Marge gestured to the bandages on the boy's stomach. "We need stitches, possible surgery, and almost a definite blood transfusion later. His father assures us he has no allergies or diseases, but Rick is coming soon with the test to confirm his blood type."

Frank pulled back the towels and a jacket that someone had pressed against the young-man's stomach, revealing a narrow but fairly deep wound. "I don't think any vital organs have been hit, but this definitely isn't a love-tap either."

"Nope." Marge grabbed a case, opening to reveal the tools they'd need. "So let's get started."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What's going on dad?" Dean hurried into the waiting room, running up to John as he entered the lobby.

"I got kicked out." John shrugged helplessly. "I don't know anything yet. They're taking him into surgery right now."

"Alright," Dean took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and John did the same. "So what" -

"Excuse me." The young medic hurried over to John, interrupting Dean. "Sir, there have been some complications with your son."

"What's going on?" Dean looked over to the man, worry etched across his face. _Complications?! _

"Your son is mid-surgery," The man ignored Dean, looking to John again. "But he's going to need a blood transfusion if he's going to be properly stabilized."

"Yeah, I figured." John nodded, confused.

"The problem is that we can't pinpoint your son's blood type," The man continued, worried. "We have detected some foreign substance in his blood. Does your son have a history of chemical dependency?"

"God, no." John shook his head, frowning. "Never. He's not like that."

_Foreign substance? That wouldn't happen to be demon-blood, would it? _Dean tried not to let the shock show on his face. _Oh my god…_

"Do you know what else it could be?" John asked, worriedly.

"Well there is a chance that he could have a very rare blood type," The man offered. "In which, a blood transfusion could be fatal unless we can find a perfect match."

"Damn," John shook his head to himself, giving Dean a desperate look, which was returned, if not guiltily. "Okay," he looked back to the man. "Keep looking. How can we contact you if we can think of anything?"

"Just ask for Rick," The man nodded, hurrying back out the door.

Dean shook his head, astounded. Sam _did_ have a very rare blood type, which was certain. Demon blood. So he couldn't have a blood transfusion. _Now what?_ "Dad…"Dean turned to his father, desperate. " If you know something about Sam that we don't know yet, something about this… now is the time to say it. It's not a secret anymore. Sam already knows. I know. But if you didn't tell us something that could save Sam" –

"Dean, I don't know what you're talking about." John shook his head in confusion. "That has nothing to do with any of this."

Dean hesitated. _Maybe dad doesn't know everything. But is that even possible?_ He was about to speak, when the sight of a familiar face entering the room caught his eye. "Ruby!"

"What did I miss?" The demon hurried up to the guys, still breathing heavily. Had she ran here?

Dean hesitated, still wondering what to do. "How did you know the demon would be here?" He demanded. "Who was it?"

"A demon named Recreil," Ruby sighed. "But that doesn't matter. It's one of Lilith's."

"Why did you even tell us in the first place?!"

"Keep your voice down junior," Ruby glared back at Dean, cutting him short. "I helped you for the same reason I helped Sam when you were dead. Hate me all you want, but I'm not going away."

"Then what was with what happened before?" John asked, still unsure about this "good" demon that the boys knew so much about.

"I was pissed, okay? And I'm sorry. But what matters _now_ is what we are going to do about Sam. You can yell at me _later_." She turned to Dean. "Now what did they say?"

Dean sighed at his dad before turning to Ruby. "They can't find a donor. His blood type's too rare. It" –

"Of course it's rare," Ruby hissed. "All the other owners died off."

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do?!"

Ruby didn't say anything for a moment, just looked Dean in the eye, as if trying to force her idea into his mind telepathically. "The physic kids would have been perfect donors. But we forgot about one little thing." She turned to dean, so that only he could see her, and slowly mouthed "Me."

"No!" Dean hissed. "No way! I'm not going to let you" –

"Well then give me a better idea then!" Ruby threw her hands in the air, challenging Dean. "Because we're running low on options right now."

"Whoa, just wait a minute okay. We need to think about this. What happens when" –

"What are you talking about?" John demanded, looking from Dean to Ruby.

"You know we don't have a choice." Ruby still didn't look away from Dean, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Well what do you think is going to happen when" –

"We already _know_ what's going to happen Dean." Ruby shook her head. "Just like before. And Sam's fine. He's Sam, just like always. But I can tell you what's going to happen if we _don't_ do this." Ruby paused, as if for dramatic effect. Typical Ruby. Typical demon, for that matter.

_God, Dean. Don't let her do this. There's got to be some way, some _other_ way. Any way. Just not this. Anything but this._

"He's going to die." Ruby finished. "And you know it. The human body needs blood, and Sam's is no exception. His blood will reject any blood type that is not his. That's what blood does. Therefore, it will kill him if he gets a blood transfusion that doesn't match. We wait, it kills him. We find another donor, it kills him. _Unless_ we do _this_."

John, still confused, looked over to Dean, who was looking at the ground, thinking. "Dean… what is she talking about?"

Dean looked at the ground, hating himself. He had promised Sam he would take care of him. He has promised himself he would take care of Sam. He had promised dad. And now he had to make a choice that could not only effect Sam's life, but inevitably, his soul. "I…"His voice was quiet, and he looked up, raising his head slowly until his eyes met Ruby's, and there they stayed. His mouth was dry as he told Ruby his decision. _I'm sorry Sam._


	10. Chapter 10

"How are we doing with Sam here?" Frank made his way hurriedly back into the room after checking on another patient. This town was small, almost 6000 people, but there were already three emergency procedures tonight, two of which they were unequipped to properly deal with. The Winchester boy here was one of them.

"Same as before," Marge muttered, working on internal stitches with the help of two aids. "Tell me his father gave you something useful."

"Nata." Frank looked over, and took another look at the wound. "He assures us that the substance can't be a drug, but who really knows anything about their kids, right?"

"Yeah. So basically, that means we find a donor, and fast. We can inject something to counteract the drug, afterwards if it really is a drug."

"Since when was it _not_ a drug?" Frank sighed, making his way out of the room at his usual run.

"Just find a donor!" Marge shouted after him. "And you better be fast. If we were dealing with a scrawny kid instead of this guy, we'd be calling the morgue by now."

"Well then do you're job and finish the surgery before he bleeds to death!"

Half an hour later, Frank returned with three helpers and a cart, the machine on it flashing blankly. "We have blood. Donor search took a while."

"About time. So how much do we have?"  
" Seven-hundred mill," Frank looked up to Marge with slightly hesitant eyes. "Which is a lot for one donation, but hey, I'm sure Sam will appreciate this."

"Sounds good." Marge didn't look up, but switched medical instruments with another medic. "We'll be done in ten. So are you sure it's the right blood type?"

"In this case we can ever be _completely_ sure," Frank admitted. "But I don't think this kid can go without. We need to take the risk if he's going to have a chance."

"Alright," Marge let a sigh escape her lips. "Hook him up."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean paced back and forth, unable to sit down. John, on the other side of the waiting room, frowned in angst over his coffee. Neither of them had said anything in what… Dean checked his watch… An hour. And still no notice. _What kind of hospital is this?_ An hour without news of Sam was like… well… an hour in hell. Which it practically was. And Dean very well knew, an hour in hell was like years. Did they forget about him and dad? Did they not understand what they were going through?! _He's my brother for god sakes! Does nobody get that!_

Looking around, Dean noticed the silence without Ruby around. After Dean had told her his decision, she had taken off pretty quickly. Dean still didn't know if he had made the right choice, or if it was too late to stop it, or if he even wanted to. _What am I supposed to do?!_ A year ago, Dean would have wished against hope that John was here to make this decision for him. And now his father was here, and Dean was still the one to make the choice. John didn't know everything, he had been gone to long. And then there was Dean, stupid, weak, clingy Dean… _Did I make the right choice? _It was a simple question. Yes, or no. But to even know the answer would be impossible. How could he put himself in Sam's shoes? How could he even make the choice to risk Sam's life over his soul, to pump him with a toxic but life-saving substance, or let him die? _How can I even do that? _Dean looked up to his father, trying to read some sort of emotion other than sadness and worry through that stone-cold military face of his. What did John think? _You're the one who told me I either have to save Sam or kill him. Don't you have something to say? Anything?! Don't you know the right thing to do? You're John Winchester, you're always right! Why can't you be right this time?!_

Suddenly, Dean felt the ground shake below him. He jerked forwards, propelled by some unknown entity, as cupboard doors slammed open and shut, and the glass in front of the main desk broke into a million pieces, the nurse on the other side screaming and covering her face with her hands. Benches fell over, and Dean saw somebody's coffee hit the ground in slow motion. Just as quickly as it had started, the ground shaking came to a stop, and Dean pulled himself to a stand, looking around him and breathing heavily.

"I think…"A man beside Dean helped his wife up, looking shocked. "I think that was an earthquake."

"Yeah…"Dean sought out his father's eyes, a deep frown forming across John's face.

"I can't believe it!" The woman cried. "This is so…"

"Un-normal." Dean and John shared a look for a moment, their thoughts almost traveling across the room. Things like this didn't just happen. Not to the Winchesters. Not the day Sam is in the emergency room. Not the day when…

For a moment, Dean stopped breathing. _Damnit Dean! _ He looked to his dad for a moment, before his feet took him out of the room too fast to be natural. "Sam!"

Dean flew thought he doors, despite the protesting shouts from nurses, doctors and attendees in the emergency ward.

The sound of beeping caught Dean's attention, and he was stopped dead in his tracks when his brother's hospital bed caught his eye. "What are you doing!" A nurse stood in his way, and Dean pushed her aside, heading towards the bed slowly, unable to breathe. The bleeping continued, and Dean raised his attention to the screen, where Sam's lifeline flashed from normal to dangerously-close-to-dead and back again, continuing in this cycle for a few seconds.

"This is a restricted area!" She shouted again. "What are you" –

"He's my brother!" Dean moved closer to the bed, painfully reminded of how he and Sam had to watch their father die this way two years ago. The bleeping got louder, and Dean's heart missed a beat when it turned into one steady drone and the line straightened on the heart-monitor to nothing.

"Shit Frank, what happened here?" The woman from the ambulance looked to the grey-haired man, who was pulling out the defibrillator as she spoke. "The earthquake must have" –

"Count it." Frank looked over to the younger medic that Dean also recognized from the ambulance, who turned the notch on some machine up.

"Two-fifty." The other man waited a few seconds. "Go."

A loud shock hit Dean's ears as two-hundred and fifty volts of electric shock were pummeled into his little brother's heart. Sam's chest lifted with the shock, and fell back to the table, his head lolling to one side.

John ran into the room, caught short by the scene before him. "What the hell is" –

The machine bleeped louder.

"Going again," Frank ordered. "Three-hundred."

The younger man turned up the notch, and John and Dean could only watch, as Sam was shocked again. Nothing.

"Last try gentlemen. Three-fifty."

The young man hesitated. "But" –

"Do it!" Frank went again with the defibrillator, and the machine whizzed, a sound un-normal to it, and smoke began to emit from the machine. Frank dropped the defibrillator pads as they began to smoke as well. He swore.

"It's not working." The young man flipped a few switches as the lights flickered above them.

Marge started CPR, but stopped after a minute or two when the machine didn't do anything.

Frank looked up to the machine, which was still a straight line, and then sighed. "Alright, call it."

Marge sighed as well, looking to her watch. "Time of death, two-forty-five A.M."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Behind Dean, John didn't move. He just stood there in shock.

Dean stepped forwards, staring at the doctor. "Do it again!"

The doctor looked to Frank with sad eyes. "Son, I'm sorry. I" –

"I said do it again!" Dean grabbed the man by the cuff of his shirt, shaking him. "He's not dead dammit! Do it again!"

"There's no way, son." The doctor pulled Dean's hands off with sympathy. "I know this is hard to deal with."

Dean pushed the man out of the way, and started pounding on Sam's chest. "Sammy, wake up." Dean felt tears streaming down his cheeks, but didn't care. "It's not funny anymore bro, wake up. Wake up dammit!"

Despite Dean's attempts, Sam, just as before, didn't move. There was no rise and fall of the chest, no bleeping of the machine, just the drone that signaled that his heart wasn't beating. Dead. Stone cold dead. And Dean couldn't save him. "No…"Dean lowered his head slowly, shaking his brother slowly. " Sammy. I…"

"Dean." John laid a shaky hand on Dean's shoulder.

"No!" Dean shrugged off John's touch, pulling Sam closer. "I'm not leaving."

"He's right son," Frank said slowly, firm but gentle. "I'm sorry, but he's dead. Why don't you let me take you to my office, and we can get you some coffee. I know some people who you can talk to."

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't need your effing coffee!"

"Common Dean." John's jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed, as he tried to lead his son out of the room, with the help of the doctor. It took every fiber of his being not to give his dead son's body one last look. _Sam… _John couldn't stop shaking. It was a deal, wasn't it? He was back, and now Sam was dead. Irony was just a sick joke, he thought to himself. Deal or no deal, this was his fault. _I shouldn't have yelled at him. I shouldn't have let him leave…_ John let a struggling Dean by the arm, trying not to cry. Dean, tough, strong-as-a-rock-Dean, was crying his eyes out. Maybe John was in shock. He wouldn't be surprised to hear it, but he was almost relieved. He needed to be there for his son right now. He could let the truth hit him later…

"No…"Dean turned and gave Sam another look. " No…"_I shouldn't have done it. Dammit Sam! Why couldn't I just do the right thing for once!?_

Suddenly, Dean heard a sound behind him. _Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep._ The machine whizzed. "Whoa, wait a second." Dean pulled himself from their grip, his eyes moving to the table. John turned around, a deep frown covering his face. Abruptly, Dean heard the coughing short afterwards. "Sam!" Dean ran to the table, amazed to hear the sound. John, the doctor and the others, hurried after. "Help him!" Dean turned to the doctor, who, for a moment, gaped at Sam in awe.

The doctor snapped into motion after a second, and the other doctor and the nurse held Sam down while he tilted Sam's head back, pulling out the tube in Sam's throat. "Oh my gosh…"He whispered to himself. " I've never" –

"Sam!" John moved a bit closer to the bed, smiling. Sam met his father's eyes for a brief second, and then closed them again, still trying to catch his breath. He was clearly still in a lot of pain, and very disoriented.

"Alright gentlemen!" The lady doctor stepped forwards, taking command. "We're not done here. Let's get our soldier here into recovery before the tables turn yet again."

"Dean…"Sam looked around, trying to find his bother.

"I'm here man." Dean grasped Sam's forearm, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, it's okay. We're going to fix you up right, okay?"  
Sam looked like he was trying to say something, but doctor Frank came in, strapping an oxygen mask to Sam's face, and judging by Sam's sleepy reaction, it clearly wasn't oxygen being pumped into the little machine. Sam's head nodded to the side slowly, as the doctors looked up to John and Dean. "I think we've just dodged a bullet here," he admitted. "But we're not out of the woods yet. Now, if you will excuse me…"

"Yeah…"Dean nodded, taking a few reluctant steps back.

"We'll get out of your hair," John offered, taking Dean by the shoulders and leading him out.

"Just take good care of that kid!" Dean shouted, hesitating. "I want the job done right!"

Dean leaned against the wall in the lobby, slowly siding down until he hit the floor. Yes, they did just dodge a bullet. Sam was dead. Dean saw it with his own eyes. And now he was alive. Maybe… Dean shook himself internally to keep himself from considering it. It couldn't have anything to do with his decision, could it? Dean didn't know what to say… Did his decision have anything to do with Sam's near death, or was it his decision that saved Sam? And at what cost? _I'm sorry Sam… _Dean looked to the ground, still shocked by the earthquake, the death, the resurrection. By everything. _I'm sorry that I had to take fate into my own hands Sam, that I almost killed you. I don't know what's going on…_ Dean looked up to John, looking equally shocked and confused across the room. _But I'm going to find out._


	11. Chapter 11

The room was spinning. Sam closed his eyes again to block out the fuzzy ceiling, trying to make his mind and his body work together. _Where am I…?_ Sam let his muscles move a little bit, trying to wake himself up. Clenching his stomach muscles for a moment, Sam soon regretted it as a shock of pain erupted in his left side, and he moaned a little bit, clenching his jaw. Before he did something he would regret, Sam mentally checked himself for any more injuries, but other than his gut and a couple bruises on his chest and face, he couldn't find anything else wrong with him. Letting his eyes open again, Sam let them drift across the ceiling above. White-patterned squares lined the roof as far as the eye could see, and Sam followed them to the wall, and downward until his eyes came upon a familiar face, head in hands, eyes downcast, not even realizing that Sam was awake. Sam, still half-asleep, allowed confusion to plague his thoughts. _Crying over me? But why_? Sam looked up and around again, and as his eyes finally rested on the IV plugged into his arm, it all began to make sense. He was in the hospital. His eyes moved to his guest, almost begging to be noticed, and he turned his head slowly to the side as they looked up to meet his eyes.

"How do you feel?" Voice quiet, tired, scared. Sam was surprised to hear it, and it didn't make him brave to hear he could provoke such a reaction.

Sam licked his lips briefly, testing the muscles in his throat, and then braved the words "Alright." He hesitated, unsure what to say. "What… happened?"

"You were stabbed."

Sam frowned, still confused, as the memory of the knife and the demon flooded his head. "Is – Is everyone else okay?"  
" Yeah… they're fine."

"The priest too?"

A nod was the only reply Sam got, and a sad one at that.

"What's wrong then?"

"I… I messed up Sam."

Sam frowned, more confused then ever. "I… I don't understand. You weren't even there. This isn't your fault."

"Yes it is."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam hissed.

"You will, soon enough."

"What…"Sam shook his head, trying to clear the smog from it. " What are you talking about Ruby?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean tried not to fidget as he walked through the big double doors, John by his side. "I don't see why we have to do this," he wined. "Let's just go back to Sam. What if he wakes up?"

"Calm down. He'll be fine," John assured his son. "We need to see if this man's okay."

"He wasn't the one who got stabbed…"

"Dean!"

"Fine dad, let's go." Dean grumbled, hurrying through the doors of the church.

They made their way into the main chapel area, and they spread out, taking a casual peek into hallways and doors, trying to find out where the priest would be spending all of his free time. "Anyone home?" Dean called out, looking around gruffly. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what they were doing, but he would much rather be checking up on his little brother right now. "Hello…?"

After a few moments, the priest entered through one of the side doors by John. Dean couldn't help noticing how normal he looked without the black eyes and demon smoke.

"Hello…"The priest smiled at them, if not apprehensively. " Back already, I see."

"Yes," John nodded. "We just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."

"That's kind of you," the priest offered. "I was praying that I would get a chance to find out how you three turned out. How is your son?"

"Alright. The doctors say he's going to make it."

"That's good," the priest nodded, hesitating, as if he wanted to say something but was reluctant to.

"Father…"Dean cleared his throat, uncomfortable. " We need to talk about what happened. I think there are some things you need to know."

The priest gave Dean a weird look, as if he already knew what Dean was going to say, but merely nodded politely, gesturing for them to sit.

"Um…"Dean wasn't sure how to start.

"You take your faith seriously, do you not father?" John took the lead.

"Of course."

"So you know that there are things out there… things that are evil, that want to hurt people."

"I'm not exactly sure what you're getting at" –

"You were possessed," Dean interrupted. "By a demon. I know we are being foreword, but it's true."

The priest hesitated, processing the information, but he didn't seem to deny it. When he did respond, his voice was quiet. "I know."

"You…"Dean hesitated, taken aback. " You know? How?"

"You remember it," John looked down at the man solemnly, understanding in his eyes. "Don't you?'

The father nodded, then began to speak. "I heard someone in the church, and I came out and saw some young man go onto the confessional, and I went into the other booth. We talked for a while, and then I saw this black smoke come through the cracks all of a sudden…"Hesitating, the priest looked over to the confessional, as if the demon smoke was still there. "I couldn't control my body. My mind was screaming at him to run, to go somewhere, do something. I was praying hysterically that I could get rid of it, that it would go away… but it wouldn't." He looked to Dean and John. "How do you two know about this sort of thing? I mean… I believed that demons are real, but I've never thought of them in such physical terms until now."

"We know a little about a lot of things," Dean answered honestly. "And demons are no exception. We hunt things like this and them back where they belong."

The father nodded, frowning. "So that was what the demon was talking about, to that boy…"

"What?!" Dean stopped the man, confused. "What did the demon say to Sam?"

"I… I think you should ask Sam that yourself."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ruby…"Sam shook his head, not understanding her sudden secrecy. " Just tell me what's going on. What's wrong?"

"Look…"Ruby ran a hand through her hair, frowning. " You were dying, and I panicked. I talked to Dean and he didn't like the idea, but I told him that it was the only way. I never thought that" –

"Ruby!" Sam cut her off. "Just… tell me slowly what you did. It's okay."

"…I found you a blood donor," Ruby started, as if she had to ease into the news.

"Thanks?" Sam wasn't sure what to say. "Ruby, I don't see how you helping me is supposed to be a bad thing. Heck, you probably saved my" –

"It was me Sam." Ruby still didn't meet Sam's eyes.

"Wha…"It took a moment for the news to sink in, for him to get it. But when the truth finally came to Sam, his jaw dropped a little. "You didn't!"

"Look Sam," Ruby looked up, her face angry and ashamed at the same time. "I wasn't just going to let you die! You didn't react to anything else; your body would have rejected it. It was the only thing that" –

"I don't care!" Sam shook his head, furious. He couldn't believe it. Ruby put more demon blood in him. How could she?! "You know how I feel about this. Do you have any idea what this could" –

"That it could turn out bad?"

"Yes! Ruby, I'm the _only_ one of Azazel's experiments or whatever that hasn't turned into a psychopath. Do you not get the fact that I'm a freak as it is? How could you do this to me?!"

"How could I _not_?!" Ruby stood up, defending herself. "You were going to _die_ Sam! There wasn't a choice here. Besides, you can control your powers now, and this won't change anything."

"Of course it will!" Sam sat up angrily, and then had to lay back down when a shock of pain ran up his entire left side. Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a second, jaw clenched in pain.

Ruby took a step forward to help, but Sam's eyes shot open and he sent her a glare that made her stay where she was.

"Just…"Sam shook his head, looking away. " Just get out."

"Sam…"

"You don't think I gave you enough already?!" Sam shot back angrily. "I did what you wanted, I played by your rules. You didn't bring Dean back, you didn't help me kill Lilith, and now I have angels trying to smite me, and my own brother told me that if he didn't know me, he would want to hunt me. I did everything you ever asked of me, and now you go around and do _this_ to me. So what the hell am I supposed to say to this Ruby? "Thanks for bringing me one step closer to being what I was supposed to be"? I have _nothing_ to say to you."

For a second, Ruby just stood there in astonishment. After a moment, she sighed. "I don't need to take this. So much for saving your life." Ruby shook her head, heading towards the door. "And you know what?" Ruby turned around again before she left. "Dean was the one who agreed to this, alright. He said 'anything to help save Sammy.' So don't pull that 'demon's are liar's' routine with me, because I was the one who saved your ass when it was asked of me. If you haven't noticed, saving you're ass is all I've ever done for a year and a half, and you still treat me like I'm 'just another' demon. So fine Sam, have it your way…"Ruby opened the door. "Have a nice life!" She slammed it behind her, leaving Sam alone with just his thoughts and the endless ceiling tiles above for company.

Half an hour – and a year's worth of thoughts – later, a nurse entered the room pushing a cart with some medical supplies stacked on it. "Oh! Good to see you awake Sam." She pushed the cart to the foot of the bed, and walked over beside him. "How do you feel?"

Sam shrugged half-heartedly, forcing a sarcastic smile. "Like I had been stabbed."

"Oh dear, that wont do now will it?" The nurse shook her head, pursing her lips, and Sam was reminded of one of those annoying Barbie-doll girls. _Although Dean wouldn't mind…_

"I guess not."

The nurse leaned over, pulling some remote control from somewhere on the side of the bed, and handed it to Sam. She showed Sam how all the buttons worked, and then checked the machine beside Sam as he moved the bed into a setting that didn't feel like he was lying down flat on his back so he could at least sit up a little bit. The nurse asked him various questions about how he felt, showed him the emergency buttons, the TV remote and then finally left with a plastic wave of farewell. "I will be back in an hour or so to check up on you," she assured him in her sticky-sweet voice. "Don't go anywhere now!"

"I wont…"Sam faked a genuine smile, and the nurse shut the door behind her slowly, trotting off to her next patient. Sam wondered how a person could possibly be so flirty, so fake, all the time. To hit on a hospital patient was just… weird. Sam shook his head. _Great legs though… Too bad Dean isn't here. Although, if he was, he would probably have her number by now._

Sam shook his head, and he sighed, his thoughts returning to their natural order. Trying not to think about his fight with Ruby, Sam wondered how Dean could possibly agree to put more demon blood in him. Dean was full on against Sam using his powers, and now he just suddenly agrees to this? Did John even know? _God, I hope not,_ Sam thought to himself. _He's going to be pissed. Even more pissed than Dean would have been. Maybe even more pissed that I am right now…_

Sam turned on the TV, and frowned as he switched channels for a good five minutes until he came to a show he could at least stand to watch. _Daytime TV sucks…_ Despite the horrible TV, Sam let himself get immersed in the show, distracting him from his injuries and the decisions that had been made on his behalf. Sam was barely even aware of what was on the TV after a while, and he looked over to the machine, where the nurse had hooked up a link to the IV that connected him to his precious pain medication, anesthetic pumping into his veins with very second. Sleep seemed like such a good idea…

Dean opened the door quietly, ushering himself into the hospital room marked 112, where, according to the nurse with gorgeous legs, Sam was in recovery. The nurse, other than giving Dean her number, said that Sam would wake up anytime now, that _today_ seemed likely. Sam was propped up into a half-lying-half-sitting-position, asleep. The TV on the shelf across the room was playing… what _was_ it playing? It appeared to be Winnie the Pooh. Dean laughed to himself, wondering why the nurses would have turned the TV on in the first place. _Maybe they think Sam has a fondness for cartoons…_

When Dean's eyes drifted back to his brother, he let the smile slip from his face. Sam looked awful. He was pale, which made the bruises on his face stand out even more, and he just had the look of someone on his death bed. As if Dean hadn't seen enough of that already… _Who am I kidding?_ There was nothing to smile about; no way that joking to himself over mundane things would make anything better. Or change what happened…

"Hey Sammy…"Dean kept his voice quiet as he sunk into the chair beside Sam's bed. " It's me. Or, I guess you can hear my voice, so you already know that..."Dean cleared his throat, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Ever since Sam's stabbing, the earthquake, and the incident with the defibrillator, Dean was so freaked out for the kid that he would probably freak out if a bug landed on his brother. It didn't help that the last conversation he had with Sam didn't end well at all. "Sam… I – uh – I need to apologize to you for before. Dad and I are so pigheaded, you know. We're just having such a hard time dealing all this and we got so worked up about the whole deal thing. I don't expect you to understand – not that you don't – its just that we both …uh…

"Look Sammy, I know I've been giving you a hard time lately. It's just that all of this has been so hard. Coming back, everything has changed. And everything is so different for dad too, I know that… I just wanted to say that I'm… I'm sorry I never understood until now. I mean… Hell was just – just – it was horrible Sammy. I know you know that. You listened to me, you understood, but…"Dean shook his head, looking down at his brothers face in despair, wishing the boy would just freaking say something. Anything. "I was just so worked up with what happened, that I sort of forgot what you went through… I know I've been giving you a hard time lately, on your powers, and some decisions you've made but I had no right. I wasn't there. You were right. I've never really been without someone for real. When mom died, I had you and dad. When dad went missing, the first thing I did was drag you away from home, and when he died you were still with me. So when you died… I just… I was so scared Sammy. I didn't want to be alone. I told myself that it was the right thing to do, and that you would be able to survive without me even though I couldn't survive without you. I never meant to do all this to you…"Dean fought back the waterworks, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. God, this would be so much easier if the kid didn't just lie there… Dean was used to Sam's eye rolls and sad looks, the way he always accepted an apology but never backed down until he got one… Why wouldn't he wake up? He was supposed to wake up! "_Sammy_…"Dean waited a few seconds, as if his brother would just jump awake at his childhood nickname, shout surprise and fight with Dean over the remote so they wouldn't have to watch freaking Winnie the Pooh anymore, but it was to no avail. Sam was still out cold. _Well,_ Dean grabbed the remote from the table and switched it to something at least more bearable, trying to take his mind off of Sam. _Maybe he heard me. People always say that when you are unconscious that you can hear people…_ Dean shook his head, not liking the thought of Sam stuck in his head for hours on end, scared and alone, waiting for someone to talk to him. _No…_ Dean sighed deeply, wiping his eyes yet again. _If he heard, he heard. If not, I will just have to swallow my damn pride and apologize another time…_

Allowing himself one precious glance back at his comatose brother before forcing himself to turn back to the TV, Dean bit his lip, wondering if his family's suffering would ever end. With a heavy sigh, Dean knew that, if there was an end, it was not anytime soon.


	12. Chapter 12

After a brutal hour of the worst TV shows imaginable, Dean heard Sam moaning softly behind him, pulling himself from an anesthetic sleep-coma tiredly.

"Look who finally joined the land of the living," Dean joked, pulling his chair back to face Sam's hospital bed happily. It was so good to see Sam awake at all right now.

"Mmmm…"Sam raised his IV-free hand and rubbed his eyes, forcing back a yawn.

"Are you with me there Armstrong?" Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's sleepy eyes. "Earth to Sam. He–lo…"

"I'm awake," Sam mumbled, blinking. "Stupid hospitals."

"I don't know man," Dean chuckled, glad to have his brother back. "That one nurse is one piece of work! I saw her coming into your room like five times today, explains why you're not getting any sleep."

Sam rolled his eyes, although for a fraction of a second, Dean thought he saw spite there. "Yeah Dean… hilarious. You forgot to mention the fact that she's a living Barbie doll. And I'm freaking drugged-up here from whatever the heck she's giving me." He gave a lazy gesture to the IV hookup bag of anesthetics, which by now had emptied, explaining Sam's waking up. "I'm starting to wonder whether they even want me to be awake at all."

"Hey man, they just want you to recover." Dean shrugged off his infamous leather jacket on the back of the chair, and leaning back as he did so. "And who doesn't want to take a good nap now and then?"

"Well if I nap any more I might as well be in a coma or something," Sam sighed. "Just woke up earlier today and I was hooked up on painkillers the second they knew I was awake."

"Oh, well that explains why you're acting like a drunk."

"Yeah Dean, drunk in a hospital. Cause that makes complete sense."

"Well if the painkillers wont do it, the hot nurses will."

Sam shook his head at Dean, laughing, but Dean couldn't help noticing that it seemed fake. The smiles didn't go to his eyes, and he seemed almost upset about something. On top of that, Dean still didn't find Sam's paleness healthy. Shouldn't he be at least _somewhat_ better by now? It had been three days!

"Hey… Everything alright Sam?" Dean kept his voice casual, although he couldn't completely cover the worry in his voice. "You don't look to hot."

"I'll be fine Dean," Sam took a drink of his glass on one of those trays beside the bed, alongside the apple juice and jello. "I'm not Superman. I just haven't adjusted to my blood-donation yet." Sam's hand faltered on the glass for a moment, and there was the briefest of looks in his eyes, but it was enough for Dean to catch what he would have missed otherwise.

_He knows._ _God, he knows… _"Sam," Dean cleared his throat, frowning. "I…"

"What?" Sam gave Dean a curious look, waiting for him to continue, but he also seemed to be challenging Sam to tell him the truth.

"I… I guess that's it," he sighed, sick with himself. "You just need a few days. I never even thought about that, to be honest."

Sam huffed silently, turning looking away for a second. He sounded disappointed.

Dean hesitated. "What?"

"Nothing…"

"Sam," Dean pressed on, hating the fact that his brother was upset with him, even though by forcing the issue he would make things worse. "What is it?"

"Don't you have something to tell me?" Sam had that brooding look on, where his jaw was set, his face hard, his neck muscles flexed, his eyes downcast. It was the typical angry Sam that hid under the surface when he was trying not to break. Dean knew the look, and he also knew that he shouldn't press his luck. He had already screwed up enough lately…

Dean looked down for a second, out of the range of Sam's glare. His voice was quiet. _How could he know? _"Sam… I'm sorry."

"For what? For doing the unthinkable or not even having the balls to tell me yourself? That was a real confidence-booster, thanks."

"I was… I was trying to help, Sam."  
" Wow, that's a step up," Sam shook his head angrily, still not meeting Dean's eyes. Dean knew that Sam was trying to stay at least partially in control, and that the blow-up hadn't hit yet. "I think the phrase that Ruby used was 'so much for saving your ass.' Looks like you're a little less cultured. No smart-ass comments left Dean?"

"Sammy, I" –

"It's Sam."

Dean hesitated. Low blow… Sam had _always_ let Dean call him Sammy. Dean was the o_nly_ one who was allowed to. It was what they had done for years. "…You've always let me call you that." As if Sam didn't' already know that! Dean swore inwardly at his stupidity, but he didn't really know what else to say.

"Well," Sam's voice was cold, guarded and still upset at the same time. "It looks like you're not the only one who's changed his mind lately."

"Sam…"Dean shook his head, confused. He knew Sam would be upset, but he never thought it would be _this _bad.

"Is that all you can say Dean? That's all you have to say to me?" Sam looked away again angrily, and Dean noticed how tense he was as his voice got quiet. "You're such a hypocrite."

"Excuse me?" Dean knew it was partially true, and that he was walking right into a big fight, but he couldn't help it. "I wasn't the one who" –

"Who agreed to kill your brother if he went dark-side? Who told him that you would hunt him if you didn't know him? Who pumped demon blood into his body?" Sam huffed, not bothering to hide the anger in his eyes. "No, that's _still _you."

"I…"Dean was in shock, unsure what to say. Sam was right. Dean did do all those things. Suddenly he got it. "Sam, I never meant to" –

"Hurt me? Bang-up job on that." Sam scratched at his IV, frowning downward so he wouldn't have to look up. Dean thought he saw a tear in Sam's eye for a moment, but he couldn't be sure. "And you know what the frosting on the cake is Dean?" Sam looked up, and Dean's suspicions were confirmed. "The _one_ thing I could count on through all this was that if something did happen, you would be the one to step in. You were the only one who could end it. If it came to it, you were the only one I would want to do it…"Sam cut himself off, unable to finish his sentence. "Looks like I was wrong."

For almost a minute, nobody spoke. Sam seemed to be waiting for Dean to speak, and Dean didn't know if he could. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? It was all true. Dean knew that. Dean had promised he would always be there for Sam, but he had also promised both Sam and dad that he would do what was necessary. In his wildest dreams, he had never thought that Sam would hold that promise to such extent that he would hold it _against_ Dean, or worse, hold Dean _to_ it and depend on him for it. "Sam… I'm… I'm so sorry." Dean tried to hide the fear in his voice, although he felt a stray tear drift down his cheek and hated himself for it.

Sam didn't say anything; just bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to cry. It was amazing how quickly he could go from angry as hell to completely terrified in a minute. What was he supposed to do? He looked up to Dean, still waiting for a response, and nodded the tiniest bit. It wasn't an 'I forgive you' nod, but more of an 'I understand why you did it' nod. Dean's eyes seemed to soften the slightest bit because of it. "How…"Sam's throat felt dry, his voice sounding extra loud after no one speaking for so long. " What did dad say when he found out?"

"He didn't," Dean admitted, if not hesitantly. "He doesn't know. Not yet."

Sam nodded slowly, pausing. "How the hell are we going to tell him?"

It killed Dean to hear the fear in Sam's voice when he said that. Was he really that afraid of what they thought? Did his promise to dad really scar him that bad? "We'll…"He forced a half smile, trying to make it look as real as possible. " We'll explain it to him together Sam. It's going to be alright."

Sam nodded, a tear finally breaking the surface and climbing down his face. Typical Dean… He wasn't just saying that telling dad would turn out all right, but that everything would. Sam didn't have to be afraid, although he was. But Dean didn't want him to be. _"When I said I might have to kill you… That was only if I couldn't save you. And whatever I do, I'm going to save you."_ Sam let a small wave of reassurance pass over him. Dean didn't do it because he gave up on Sam, but because he wasn't going to give up on him. Not yet at least. And that felt good.

"Sam…?" Dean asked softly, bringing Sam out of his shell of thoughts.

Sam raised his head to Dean, his face softening a bit. "It's… It's Sammy."


	13. Chapter 13

"So," John gave Sam an expectant look, than Dean. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"

Both boys hesitated, before Dean piped up "I - We kind of need to tell you something."

"I got that far…"

Dean laughed uncomfortably, throwing Sam a "now what" look.

" We found out what saved me," Sam cleared his throat, trying to get the ball rolling for Dean. He really did not want to be the one to say it.

"Really?! How?"

"Well I – uh – found someone who knew a way to help," Dean scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"And who was that?"

"Ruby…"Dean said it quietly, almost inaudibly.

"Ruby?!" John sounded surprised, and somewhat impressed, although still wary. "Go figure…And what did she do then?"

"She, uh…"Dean drifted off, unsure what to say. " She told me about a way we could save Sam. I didn't really want to, but it was the only thing that would work with the whole, you know, demon-blood thing…"He paused again.

"And what was the solution then?" John sounded anxious, as if afraid of what he might hear. "What did she do to Sam?"

"Well Sam wasn't taking to a blood donation," Dean continued, trying to ease his father into this. "His body was rejecting it. We were running out of time, so we, er…"

"You … _what_?"

Dean looked up to his father hesitantly, his eyes pleading. "We put more demon blood in him."

"You _didn't_!" John turned to Dean with an angry expression, excluding Sam from what was, a few seconds ago, a triangle between them.

"Dad…"Sam interjected, trying to give Dean a minute of respite from what he just told his father, but no one was listening.

"I don't get it Dean, I thought we had an understanding about" –

"About protecting Sammy? Yeah, we did have an understanding about that dad. So don't get mad at me for" –

"That's not what I meant. You know how I feel about this kind of thing, and you should know better because" – John cut himself off before he said something he would regret, especially with Sam right there in the hospital bed beside him. He wished that Sam didn't have to be there for this conversation. "I know you have worked with this demon before…He started calmly, trying to avoid the part of all this that was really worrying him. " But who knows if we can really trust her? What if something bad was to happen? What if something went wrong? You shouldn't have taken the risk, Dean."

Sam laughed dryly. "Good to know I'm thought so highly of in this family," he replied sarcastically. He looked from John to Dean, who both seemed to have forgotten he was there at all. "And look… I know you didn't exactly meet Ruby in one of her shinning moments, but she's trustworthy. Kick a dog and it will bite you. A demon is no different. But she would never do anything to really hurt us. She's just threats."

"How do you know?" John raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Really, how come you are both so sure about this Ruby girl? She could easily be making a con on you. Demons are untrustworthy, and you know that! If I taught you anything, it was to kill a demon before it kills you. Hell, she probably summoned the damn thing that did this to Sam just so she could come to the rescue and" –

"And what dad? Turn me evil?" Sam let that last comment sink in before continuing. "Ruby has been helping us for a year and a half. She could have killed us a billion times if she wanted, but she helped us instead. She even tried to help get Dean out of his deal! Took down a couple heavyweight demons on the way too. She even got sent to hell for us, and she dragged herself out to save my life. Hell, if it weren't for her I wouldn't even _be_ here. So I guess that makes me _pretty _sure."

"But Sam, she could have been tricking you this whole time. Demons are patient. They can wait decades to do what they need to do if they have to. You of all people should know that."

"And what the hell is that supposed to" –

"Dad look," Dean cut in, not liking where this conversation was going. "I knew the risks when I did this, okay? I knew that it could hurt Sam, but it was better than letting him die. I hate to bring this up again, but you of all people should know that dealing with demons isn't always pretty. This isn't another deal dad. Yeah, Ruby's a demon. And she can be a skank like no tomorrow if she wants to be. But like it or not, we can trust her. She tried like hell to save me from the pit, and when she couldn't she took care of Sam. I probably fight with the bitch more than anybody, but Sam _is _right about this. She isn't our enemy here."

"Alright," John took a deep breath, somewhat annoyed, and took a step back to calm the fight down a little bit, although he doubted it would help. What had gotten into his sons lately? "I'm not going to spend all day fighting about this stupid demon girl, okay? We can do this later. I'm just saying that I don't really like this whole situation. It doesn't seem right to me. I know I've been gone a long time, but I still know a little bit about a little bit, okay? Can you boys just give me that benefit?"

"Dad…"Sam shook his head, talking quietly. "This wont change anything. You guys fight and fight about me, but you forget that I'm a grown man. I can make decisions on my own. I know this whole demon thing scares the shit out of you, and yeah it scares me too, but I'm _fine._ I'm not foaming at the mouth or anything."

"Sam…"John cleared his throat, shaking his head. " That's not what this is about. We trust you. It's just a matter of principle. I don't want no demon doing anything to my boys and that's tha" –

"Of course that's what this is about!" Sam's voice didn't get much louder, but it wasn't as controlled as before. "Dad you can't lie to me about this anymore. I _know_ I'm the reason why mom died. I _know_ I'm at least partially the reason you died, and I know I'm sure as _hell_ the reason why Dean died. Yeah, I'm guilty, and I'm sorry. But don't go around treating me like I'm stupid or something, like I don't know that it's all my fault."

"Don't put words in my mouth Sam! I never said that!"

"Really? You think I don't know what you told Dean before you died? Or that I don't see the way you look at me behind my back? You're right dad, you've been gone a hell of a long time, so don't even try to come around here and" –

"Sam! Dad! Shut up!" Dean tried to cut them off, but no one paid him any attention.

"Sam _you_ are the one who brought this up," John defended angrily. "Not me. I'm not trying to start a fight, okay?"

Sam sighed, his voice lowering in volume. "You're changing the subject dad. You _always_ change the subject."

"Than please Sam, tell me what the subject is. Because _I _was talking about Ruby before you jumped down my throat. I was arguing with your brother about" –

"About me," Sam interrupted, stopping John in his tracks. And he was right. "Dad… I'm not condoning what she did. I gave her hell for it and I still haven't decided how I'm going to act if I ever _do_ see her again. And I was pissed at Dean too, don't get me wrong. I didn't want any of this dad, you know that. But they saved my life, and I'm not going to pretend that that I'm not thankful. I know the risks, that's why I was upset. But it's we can't change it now. Whatever happens happens, and there isn't a thing anyone of us can do about it. Powers change. It's not like I haven't dealt with stuff like this before. We" –

"Wait," John frowned, holding up a hand to stop Sam. "What do you mean _powers change_?"

"I…"Sam saw, out of the corner of his eye, Dean look at him in horror. Now the shit had _officially_ hit the fan. " Dad, my powers have changed since two years ago."

"Changed _how_?" John sounded suspicious, worried and demanding at the same time. It was not a good combination to hear.

"Well I haven't had a vision since Yellow-eyes died," Sam gave his father a fake reassuring smile, trying to focus on the positive. He knew John would snap, just like Dean had snapped when he found out. If Sam kept himself calm, maybe it would rub off on his father. "And I can… um… exorcise demons." Sam said it quietly, as if that would make a difference.

John hesitated, confused. He saw Dean shuffle uncomfortably beside him. Clearly this wasn't Dean's favorite subject either. "What was that?"

"I can exorcise demons," Sam repeated, a little louder this time. But he still didn't meet John's eyes.

"I heard that part…"John cleared his throat, frowning. " But what do you _mean_ by that? Exorcise them?"

"I don't really know a better explanation than that," Sam admitted hesitantly. "Just… you know. _Exorcise_ them."

"And just _how _do you exorcise them?"

Sam noticed that his father was getting impatient. Bad sign… "I don't know, it's just" –

"Oh you don't know," John repeated, cutting Sam off. "That's just great. Now that's exactly what I was" –

"Can you let me finish?!" Sam interrupted, trying not to glare back. "It's not that I _don't know_. But that would be like me asking you how you can walk."

"Walking isn't the same thing Sam…"

"Yes it is. Your brain tells your legs to walk, and they do. You have to think about it, you have to _tell_ your legs to walk but you don't know how your brain does it. You don't feel the nerves going to your brain. They just do. It's the same thing. I just concentrate my mind on what I'm doing, and it just…" he drifted off, shut down somewhat. How was he supposed to explain this? "It just works, I guess."

"If it works so well… than why am I just finding out about it now?"

Dean couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. He had said practically the same thing to Sam, along with a bunch of other things he wished he could take back.

"First off because I was busy telling you everything else that happened in two years," Sam's face was solemn, and he looked everywhere but at his family. "…And I knew you would react like this. I'm _already_ the freak of the family. I didn't know what to say…" he looked down, feeling like a child. "I was scared I guess."

The room was quiet. "Sam…"John hesitated, sighing. " I never… "He frowned as if about to say something, but cleared his throat instead, checking his watch. " I, um, I'm going to go grab some coffee while I still can." He gave Dean the briefest of looks, than looked towards Sam without meeting his eyes, looking as if he was getting their agreement. He slid out of the room with an apologetic look behind him, still not meeting their eyes.

Sam watched him go with despair, knowing that he had failed. He was still the freak, still the demon-boy. His father didn't understand. How could he? Sam felt his throat tightening, and he clenched his jaw to stop himself from crying. What had happened to the invincible Sam Winchester? The man who withstood four months without his brother and another six that no one knew about? The man who lasted through the deaths of everyone he had ever loved? Had Sam not learned _anything_? _I'm _still_ a failure…_

Dean looked up to his brother hesitantly. "Sam, I…"

"My throat's kind of dry," Sam mumbled, keeping his voice steady. "The Barbie-nurse told me to drink lots. Can you catch up to dad and get me some water or jello or something?"

Dean hesitated, knowing that Sam was lying through his teeth. It went against everything Dean believed in to leave his brother like this, but knew that Sam just wanted him to go, to be alone. Sam had dealt some low blows to John, but dad had hit harder without even realizing it. Dean had done the same thing too, he realized harshly. He had been worse, because he hadn't been gone as long. Dad had two years of not understanding this. And Dean should know Sam better than anybody. Still, Dean gave the open door a look, to have your father come back from the dead and reject you was one of the lowest blows you could get. _Just like your brother doing the same thing… God, what's wrong with me? With us?_ He licked his lips, unsure what to say. "Sam" –  
"Please." Dean heard his brother's voice crack¸ and it took every once of willpower not to refuse just so he could stay and be with his brother. Just like it took every once of Sam's not to break down then and there.

"Al-Alright." Dean turned his back on Sam, heading towards the cafeteria. He pulled the Impala's keys out of his pocket, knowing that he shouldn't come back for a while. Sam didn't need water, he needed someone to understand. And while John and Dean were clearly incapable of that, Sam didn't want them there. For the first time since his resurection, Dean thought he finally understood his brother…


	14. Chapter 14

Heaving a big sigh, John shuffled in his seat for the fifth time since he had at down in front of Sam's hospital bed. Judging by the anesthetic bag hooked up to Sam's IV, he would be out for at least another two hours. Good nap, the nurse with the bleach-blonde hair who watched Dean with a hungry expression had said. John found her kind of … well… skanky. Not that John was an expert on modern women, but if he had a choice, he would keep her as far away from his boy's as possible. Far, far away.

His mind reaching more of an appropriate chorus of action, John looked down to Sam again. Why did this seem so familiar? _I wonder…_ John frowned at himself. _First Mary, then Dean. I can't believe Sam got through this as well as he did. _A little switch in John's brain flipped, telling him _why_ his son had survived, but John un-flipped it, unable to think of it any longer.

Things had changed since his death, that much was clear. Dean hadn't taken his death well at all, judging by what he had heard so far, and Sam had eventually found out what John had told Dean. That was uncomfortable enough, John admitted. It had hurt like nothing else to tell Dean that he might have to kill his brother.

That was a burden for John alone to carry, not Dean. Definitely not Sam's either, but that didn't stop him from getting into trouble. He was possessed, kidnapped by demons, and murdered in the course of a year, along with who-knows-what else. Dean, following in his father's stupid footsteps, had made the deal to bring Sam back to life. Some part of John was proud of Dean for it, for being brave enough and strong enough to sacrifice his life for his little brother. But the other part, the part that John knew was true, told him that Dean had been foolish, weak, just like is father. And Dean went to hell for it too, just like his father. John sighed again, trying to force the images out of his mind. He remembered hell, although that was a secret he would take _back_ to the grave.

Sometimes, when he looked at Dean, he noticed little movements, little hesitancies that told John that some part of Dean remembered it too. It was the look in his eyes when he didn't know you were watching him. What surprised John also was that Sam seemed more in-tune with this than he was. Sam was, in reality, his brother's keeper. John hadn't been around long enough to notice any of the big actions, but he had noticed the little things, like the way Sam would change the subject when it came to things Dean didn't want to talk about, or how he would turn up the Impala's music when there were uncomfortable silences. John had spent his whole life telling Dean to "look out for Sammy", and now Sammy was looking out for Dean. It was what some people would call poetic justice. Others would call it irony, or worse yet, a cruel twist of fate. Despite Sam's apparent rise to power, he was still venerable. John had seen that just a few hours ago, and it was enough to make him leave the room. Sam was just as important to John as Dean was. They were his sons, and equals in his eyes, but they were still different. There was a part of John, somewhere in the back of his head, that had stubbornly refused to believe that he would get to keep Sam. There was always the possibility that he would die like so many other children that had been attacked by evil things, or that he would change, like the other demon-children.

Worse yet, was the possibility that Sam's undoing, if he ever had one, would be by his own family. The worst thing that a father would have to do, ever, was to let his own son die willingly, let alone kill him. That was why John had made the deal for Dean. He couldn't let his son die. But if it came to killing Sam, John knew that it was his responsibility, his charge. _My son._ But Dean, the son that had grown up too fast to take his father's place on the totem pole, had also taken up that mantle. Dean hated the thought of killing Sam, if it was possible, almost more than John did it seemed. Sam was Dean's brother, his best friend, his everything. John had died, and there was no getting around that. Coming back after two years didn't change the fact that he had abandoned his family, whether he had a choice or not. Dean knew Sam better than anybody.

When John thought about it, his sons had both done everything he ever wanted, and everything he never wanted. They had become better hunters than he, the legendary John Winchester, had ever dreamed to be. They had both been through everything and stayed together until the end. They were both still on the right side, fighting every obstacle to save the innocent. They killed the yellow-eyed demon! But they had changed, becoming colder, harder. They had become more like John than he ever wanted, but somehow worse. Sam used his powers. Dean gave Sam demon blood. Dean sold his soul. Sam had affiliated with a demon. John knew he was a hypocrite to judge them, either of them, but he was worried. Disappointed even.

John hadn't even been back a week, he realized, but still he was already becoming more intertwined with this life. He didn't know what was going on, or who to trust when it came to Sam and Dean's allies. But then again, had he really expected things to stay the same? Was he really that naïve? The hunt had changed. His sons had changed. But he hadn't. Other than his experiences in hell, John was the same person he had always been. _Or maybe,_ John frowned at himself, _maybe you don't notice when you change. When Sam and Dean look at themselves in the mirror, do they see the same people they used to be?_

Looking down to Sam's cold, pale, unexpressive face, John let himself feel a moment of angst. His sons had been his world, and he had lost them. They had moved on, had grown up into strong men with their own lives, dreams, feelings and beliefs. Dean had been rescued from hell by an angel, John remembered his son saying. That was weird enough. Now John wasn't a religious man in any means, and he knew Dean felt the same. Or at least… he had. Maybe things had changed. Whatever had really saved Dean needed to show itself to John before he was going to believe.

And Sam… What had he been up too lately? "Exorcising demons" was the phrase Sam had used… whatever the heck that really meant. He had never specified... _Not that I really gave him the chance,_ John admitted seriously. It was true, John may have been a _little_ insensitive to his sons this morning, particularly Sam. But in his defense, John had been completely shocked by everything he had been told; it was perfectly understandable how he had acted… Wasn't it?

Suddenly, John felt the jolt of adrenaline hit his body with the familiar sense that he was being watched. Quickly but with caution, he turned around him to the door, where he was surprised to see Ruby, arms crossed in front of her chest and leaning against the wall beside the door. She had, it seemed, been looking at Sam, but when John turned her eyes immediately flickered to his, as if she could read his mind. Maybe she could… John didn't like that thought. _Stupid demons._ John opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Easy pops," Ruby held a hand out in front of her to silence him, but her tone was calm. "I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Than why are you here?" John demanded angrily, glaring. The thought of what she had done to Sam was still fresh in his mind.

"Believe it or not," Ruby held a tiny bag in her hand out like an admittance fee. "I come bearing gifts." She tossed the bag to John, who caught it backhandedly and began to examine it. "It's witchcraft by the way," Ruby explained before John could ask. "Keeps demons from catching your scent, angels too. Sam's a big glitch on the radar for both teams, and when it comes you you're lives, its not good to play battleship. They'll both notice the difference and flock like pigeons to wheat seeds, but this will cover your tracks. That also means that you wont have to worry about me for a while at least," She gave him a sarcastic smile, although it seemed laced with an emotion John couldn't recognize. Maybe sadness… "Lucky you."

Fumbling with the bag in his hands, John nodded slowly, not sure whether he should condemn or thank her. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are on the right side."

John paused, confused. He should be saying that to her, not the other way around.

"And because," Ruby continued. "You are Sam's father. Dean's too for that matter."

Even more awkward. Was this demon infatuated with Sam or something? "Why do you care about him so much? Sam I mean."

Ruby hesitated, her face considerate. "I don't know. Its just…"She stopped herself, becoming cold again. "I'm not going to spill my heart out to some hunter I don't know. I don't care who you are."

John huffed, shaking his head. "Sorry I asked."

"Why bother? I already know how you feel about me. You Winchesters… no matter how many times I prove myself, I just have to do it again and again. I'm not some dog to send through a hoop. I don't do tricks."

"Well you certainly seem to." John held up the hex bag, and looked at her warily. "And that demon blood 'trick' of yours…"

"You think it was stupid."

"That's not… Not _quite _the word I'd use." John struggled to keep his voice calm, although all he wanted was to send her back to where she belonged.

"Honestly, I don't care what word you'd use." Ruby stepped forwards, standing at the foot of Sam's hospital bed, watching him intensely. "Not like I had a choice. He was dying… I hated to do it, but it'll make him stronger in the end."

"Make him…"John glared at her, appalled. " How dare you even" –

"Oh save the melodrama," Ruby sighed pointedly, still staring at Sam. "Despite what you seem to think, Sam's tough as nails. If I ever complement you on anything John, it is that you managed to raise this one right somehow. Whatever happens, he can handle it."

"This isn't a game Ruby," John forced icily, turning his body to face her. "This is my son we're talking about, not some racehorse you can bet on as you wish. I don't care what" –

"You don't think I know that?!" Ruby snapped incredulously. "Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and believed in your son for once, he could actually get somewhere without having to worry about what _daddy_ might think! He didn't get to where he is today by acting that way, and I'm sure as hell not going to let him start now."

Scoffing, John wished that it was physically possible to glare at her even more than he already was. "You're not Sam's charge. You don't" –

"And you are?" Ruby laughed bitterly. "…I'm not the one who abandoned him."

John hesitated, unsure how to respond. It was true, he had abandoned Sam. It hadn't been on purpose, but it was true.

"Look," Ruby died down slowly, forcing the subject to a close. "Just keep the bag with Sam at all times. It'll keep him safe. Don't trust me, ask Dean about the hex bag. He knows what they are too. Hell, Sam knows all about them, he can even check it over for you. And stay close to Sam. It will rub off on you too, although with your reputation you shouldn't need that. Still, you are _supposed_ to be dead. Stay out of sight and you might stay out of trouble. And I suggest you get one of those anti-possession tattoos that your boys wear so well. They are worse their weight in gold."

John couldn't help himself, huffing out loud sarcastically. "A demon is telling me to stay away from possession. That's not hypocritical at all."

"Hey I recycle," Ruby snapped back, although with less stamina then before. "This body is one-hundred percent empty, other than me of course. Sam has the papers if you're interested, but I think you've already given him hell enough for one day. God forbid you should even remotely trust me and we can move on from this," she sighed, glaring half-heartedly, and gave Sam one last look before turning to walk out the door.

John knew he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. Was he supposed to yell at her? Thank her? He wasn't even sure how he felt about Ruby any more…

"If you don't mind," Ruby requested quietly, turning to glance back at the hospital bed. "Don't tell Sam I came. He's not too _happy_ with me at the moment. I'm supposed to back off, but…"She cleared her throat, turning back to the door. "Don't forget about the hex bag by the way. That wasn't exactly easy to come by." She walked out the door, and John walked after her, unsure what he was going to say but wanting to say something. Even though John hurried, when he got around the corner, Ruby had disappeared.


	15. Chapter 15

With a lazy flourish, Dean signed the fifth release form on the list, and gave it to the doctor with a tired smile. "Thanks again doctor," he offered sadly to the older doctor who had done Sam's surgery. "You saved my brother's life." _That's not really true… Ruby saved his life. But hell, the guy deserves some credit, right?_

"That's why I'm here," the doctor replied, smiling. "I'm very impressed by his recovery, to be honest. Your brother must have some guardian angel."

_Anything but…_ Dean forced a laugh. "Yeah… He sure does. Thanks again doctor."

"Now I've already talked to you and your father about his medication, exercise, and all that, right?"

"Of course. Don't worry. I've been taking care of that kid for years, and I'm not going to stop now."

Just then, Sam shuffled into the room. He was wearing a new change of clothes Dean had brought from their hotel room, and had a Styrofoam cup of ice water in his hands. Dean was proud of his speedy recovery in the past two weeks since the stabbing. Despite Ruby's assistance, Sam still had to heal himself. According to the doctor, it was early to let Sam leave, but he thought that Sam was doing well enough now to go. Still, he was paler than normal, and slouched over a little. Dean wouldn't be surprised to hear he had shrunk two inches. He flashed Sam a hesitant smile. It was out of place to see all 6'4 and 200 pounds of his brother looking so fragile. It was worrisome, to be honest.

"Good. I don't want to see him back here," the doctor smiled. "Now you and your family take care."

Dean nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, you too…"He hurried over to Sam, who returned the smile with a nod. John came around the corner too, joining the group, and got silent greetings from both boys in return. Since their big blowup two weeks before, things had settled down quite a bit. John and Sam were talking again, and things seemed normal… other than the fact that there was still tension between the three. Dean felt it, John seemed to feel it, and Sam surely felt it. But for now… thing were calm enough to call peaceful.

"You boys ready to hit the road?" John looked to his sons expectantly, ready to leave. Dean could see his hate of hospitals coming through even now.

"You ready to leave, Sam?" Dean gave Sam a curious look.

Sam nodded slowly, his pale face almost reflecting the light. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Dean gave his brother a smile, glad to hear him joking again. But it wasn't hard to hear the edge in Sam's voice; caused both by emotion and the trauma this throat took from the hospital stay. Being unconscious for so long, a tube shoved down your throat to keep you breathing, wasn't exactly great on the voice. "You sound like Bruce Wayne," Dean joked, punching Sam on the arm a lot lighter than he normally would as they walked through the automatic doors. "Say 'I'm bat man'."

"What?" Sam gave him a confused look.

"Say it," Dean laughed, ready to get back to the lighthearted atmosphere that he and Sam had been without for so long. "I dare you."

Sam laughed softly, shaking his head at Dean, and he screwed up his face in a fake serious look that TV hunks wore. "I'm bat man."

"Look at that, you _finally_ have a way to attract chicks," Dean joked, giving Sam a little shove with his elbow. He stopped when Sam let a little moan of pain as he got caught in the side. "Oh – crap – sorry man." Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, stopping him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"You sure you don't want to say another day or two Sam?" John gave his son an understanding frown. "Better safe than sorry, you know? We can suffer the hospital a while longer if we have to."

"I'll be a lot better at the hotel," Sam reassured, leading the way to the Impala a few feet away. "Lets just go somewhere. Anywhere."

"Well Bobby called," Dean admitted, giving John a glance. "And he said he'll kill me if I don't take you two to see him. He said he's cleaning, whatever the hell that means."

"Ah Bobby," John sighed. "It's been a long time since I've shown my face to him."

"Well he says that you'd better," Dean explained. "He says we can stay as long as we want, until Sam's better and we can find our next hunt."

Sam leaned against the Impala, tired, as Dean unlocked the door. "Sounds good to me." He slid into his customary seat, while John took the back. Dean, as usual, was driving. John moved over to the other side so Sam could recline his seat a little bit.

"We'll make 'er by six," Dean turned up the Metallica loud enough to be entertained without bothering his brother. "The sooner the better."

"Wake me up when it's my turn to drive," John offered, leaning against the back window, slouching down to lay his head along the back of the seat.

Dean noticed, surprised, that Sam was already asleep. But then he noticed Sam's hand twitch, and he knew that Sam was only pretending. He put the Impala in reverse, turning his eyes to the road again, and backed out of his spot, wheels burning the pavement as they sped out into the night. It was hard not to give his "sleeping" brother a glance every few seconds, worried, but he knew that that was the last thing Sam would want. He turned the music up a little bit, putting his thoughts on the road.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

A few hours later, Dean pulled into the gravel lot in front of Bobby's house, tires skidding as he hit the brakes. "We're here," he looked over to John, then to Sam, shaking his arm gently. "Common sasqwatch."

Sam, who by this time had fallen to sleep for real, peeled his face from the leather upholstery, squinting. "What time is it?"

"Time to eat something," John muttered in the backseat, stretching from his sleep and being stuck in the car for so long. "God, I hope Bobby has learned how to cook. There's got to be more in his fridge than beer and baking soda by now."

"Relax dad," Dean turned off the Impala, throwing the door open. "He knew we were coming. Besides, I called him an hour out. He'll have something ready."

"Yeah," Sam muttered quietly, too tired to say much more. "I'm starving."

John opened his door, going around to the back of the Impala. "I've got the bags."

Dean got to Sam's side of the car, opening the door for him, and helped Sam out. Sam shrugged off his arm a bit when he got to a stand, but Dean didn't back off. "Just give me the benefit of the doubt here, okay?"

Sam sighed in annoyance, but still let himself be ushered to the door, knocking with as firm of a hand as he could manage. The door opened after a few seconds, leading Dean to believe that Bobby was waiting by the door, and Bobby met them with a gracious, albeit nervous, smile.

"It's good to see you boys." Bobby stepped back to let them in. He gave Dean a nod, then turned to Sam. "Wow kid, you really gave me a scare when Dean called me. I'm glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah," Dean agreed honestly. "Me too."

Sam gave Bobby a tired smile, reminding Dean of when he brought Sam, in similar condition, back to Bobby's after Dean made the deal. He saw a similar curious look in Bobby's eyes, and felt a similar pang of guilt. But this time, he hadn't made a deal. Not really. Everything was going to be okay… hopefully. "Thanks Bobby."

Just then, John entered, a suitcase in each hand and one over his shoulder. "I'm way to old to be carrying your stuff, boys," he mumbled, shuffling into the room without even looking up. When he did, his gaze caught Bobby's, and they held that position for a minute.

Bobby shook his head, a half-smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I'll be damned."

"Look Bobby, I know we didn't exactly get off on the best of" –

John was cut short when Bobby pulled him into a bear hug, dropping the bags beside him to pat the man on the back. Sam and Dean stood there, unsure what to do. Bobby was hugging someone. Their dad was hugging someone! That was just… weird. Awkward even. But considering that the last time the best friends had seen each other was in a big fight before one of them died, this was justified. Still though…_ Awkward._

After a few seconds, the men pulled away, giving each other smiles of welcome that symbolized that apologies on either half weren't needed.

"So I'm going to get Forest Gump here settled in," Dean tilted his head towards Sam, who was practically swaying on his feet with tiredness. "Before he passed out and causes a mini-earthquake."

"Ha-ha Dean," Sam mumbled as he was lead upstairs to the spare room by his brother. "Very funny. You're a poet."

"Damn straight," Dean sighed jokingly, remembering the days when they were little and he used to put Sam to bed after they would stay up too late watching a movie. The only difference now, Dean realized as Sam let a little bit more weight fall against Dean's shoulder, was about 150 pounds. Dean missed the days when he was taller than his little brother. Dean used to be more muscular too, he realized with a pang of jealousy, as he had to grab Sam's upper arm to steady him. Looks like four months of Sam kicking demon ass while Dean's body was rotting in the ground had changed their places just a little bit. "Why do you have to be so freaking tall?" he muttered to himself, although he heard Sam laugh quietly. He pushed Sam through the door of the spare bedroom, which housed one bed and one cot. Sam, of course, got the bed. Dean and John would barter over who got the couch downstairs and who got the cot, but that could wait till later.

Sam kicked off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket and button-up on a chair by the bed. He started to pull off the t-shirt too, but hesitated, wincing at the pressure to his stomach. He let the t-shirt fall back to his skin with a sigh of defeat, raising an eyebrow at Dean. "What?"

"You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed again, shrugging gently. "Besides, I have way too much pride to let you help me dress."

"Good, cause that would be awkward."

"Yeah," Sam laughed quietly to himself, reliving a private joke. "Of course, that rule changes when it comes to hot nurses."

"What!" Dean gasped, jealous. "No fair! I never even thought about that…"

Sam laughed, a little louder this time, and shook his head. "Common Dean, do you really think I'm _that_ low?"

"Hell yeah! I am, and you are my brother, so that means you are too!"

"Common Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't _my_ but she was checking out."

"How would you know?" Dean teased, eager to get back to the joking mood with Sam. "You were asleep like… half the time."

"Don't even put that image in my mind Dean." Sam set down on the bed, lowering himself to lie down on top of the blankets in his clothes, and closed his eyes.

"I'm going to grab our things," Dean gestured downstairs. "Don't fall asleep yet Sammy, you still need your pills and stuff…"He gave Sam a worried look before walking down the stairs.

Dean frowned to himself. It was hard not to worry about that kid after all that he had been through. It was easy to laugh and joke, to make Sam feel better and disguise Dean's own pain but it was all pretend and they both knew it. There was a storm brewing both physically and emotionally inside Sam. Sam was healing from a fatal wound, but even when that was gone Dean still feared that the wounds on the inside would still be there. It was hard to look at Sam nowadays and not notice that he was scarred internally, hardened into what he was from years upon years of loosing everyone he ever loved, over and over. Dean was the worst too, the final stone on the pile, because he had promised Sam his whole life that he would always be there, and he had knowingly left, gone to hell for his own stupidity. Dean had scars of his own, that much could never be ignored. Even without the memories of hell, he was a scarred man. But the last thing that Dean wanted was to see Sam turn out like him, and Sam was headed down that path fast. There were even times when Dean didn't know what it was that had left the scar in the first place, how his brother had suffered yet another internal blow without Dean's knowledge. Maybe it was the powers, and the toll that that took on Sam. Dean didn't' understand them, probably never would, and that made him fear them. He had said things to Sam, things that had left scars of their own, because of that fear. Things he meant, and a _lot_ of things he didn't. The more time he spent with his brother since his resurrection, the more he knew that Sam was in a downward spiral. The reason for Dean's pain was clear, for the most part. But Sam was different. He was complex, just like he had always been. But now it was worse. Dean didn't know what was the problem half the time, what the scar was, or how to heal it. It killed Dean not to be able to help Sam, both physically and emotionally. Giving Sam the demon blood had been hard as hell, but Dean would do it again in an instant to save Sam even thought it meant the possibility of Sam leaving him. Selling his soul was even harder, but even knowing the consequences in and out he would do it again. But Sam's problems were his own now. Dean couldn't help him anymore. And if he could… Dean didn't know how too. And it was killing him.


	16. Chapter 16

I just wrote this as fast as I could, so if there are mistakes, please forgive me! This is a little late-Xmas cheer because I neglected to post a Christmas chapter. Enjoy!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean dragged his feet down the stairs slowly, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He really needed a long, long, nap. Even Sam's sleeping pills seemed appetizing right now, Dean observed with a weary sigh, although he would have no trouble sleeping on his own. But first, he had to get Sam his meds before the kid fell asleep.

Making his way into the kitchen, Dean found Bobby and John talking at the kitchen table, laughing as they did so. They were probably reminiscing over old memories, Dean thought to himself. Why did parents always do that?

"You boys coming down anytime soon?" Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Cause we're going to start eating without you if you don't hurry up."

"Calm down Martha Stuart," Dean teased, pulling a water glass from the cupboard. "I'm just taking Sam's pills upstairs so he can get some sleep. Then I'll be downstairs in time for you to show me your apple pies and glade candles."

John stifled a laugh, as Bobby shook his head at the joke. "Too bad actually. It would have been nice to get the four of us for Christmas dinner."

"What?!" Dean looked up, aghast, while he was filling the water glass. "It's not Christmas. Where have you been?"

"Fine its _Boxing Day_," Bobby corrected, rolling his eyes. "But this is our Christmas dinner since I was alone yesterday and you obviously didn't have one."

"But it's _not_ Boxing Day," Dean walked towards the table, confused. "It's like… the fourteenth or something."

"Check your phone then champ. It's boxing day."

Dean pulled out his phone, and checked the calendar. Bobby was right. It was Boxing Day. "Aww…."

"What?" John gave Dean a curious look.

"We _missed_ Christmas!"

Bobby and John looked at each other, unsure what to say. "Um… Yeah I guess you did." Bobby shrugged. "That's why we are having it _today_."

"You sure Sam doesn't want turkey?" Bobby offered, gesturing to the stove.

"You…"Dean caught himself, laughing. " You made _turkey_? You really _are_ Martha Stuart!"

John gave Dean an impatient look. "Is there an echo in here or something? Are you going to get your brother or not?"

Dean paused, considering it. He hadn't had a Christmas with his family since… well… never. Not a real Christmas anyhow. But Dean had missed the Christmases they did have. And it wasn't the same without Sam. But Sam could barely pull himself up the stairs, Dean remembered carefully. He wasn't in any condition for their sort of Christmas. Not even on Boxing Day.

"I don't think he'll make it, to be honest," Dean admitted with a shrug. "He can have leftovers in the morning."

John nodding, sighing. "Yeah, might as well let the jolly green jiant get his sleep. You say 'Merry Christmas' to him from us, a'ight?"

"Sounds good." Dean took his water, and walked through the doorway, stopping to pick up Sam's duffel with on hand, and slid his fingers through the handle of his also. Lifting both bags with one hand, and trying not to spill the water, Dean hurried upstairs. Through the doorway of the spare bedroom, he saw Sam in bed, his eyes half closed.

"Hey Dean…"Sam's voice was slurred with tiredness, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

"Hey Sammy," Dean smiled, pulling Sam's pill bottles from Sam's duffle, and handing them to his brother. "So guess what?" He set the water glass down on the table as he sat down on the side of the bed.

"What?" Sam propped himself up on one elbow slowly, swallowing his medicine with a large gulp of water. Dean couldn't help noticing that his hand on the glass was a little less steady than it normally was.

Dean hesitated, working up the moment. "It's Christmas!"

"What?!" Sam's eyes widened.

"Well… Boxing Day," Dean corrected as if there wasn't a difference. "But _still_."

"Holly crap…"Sam frowned, just as surprised as Dean had been. " We missed Christmas!"

"I know man, that's what I said."

Sam tried to sit up, but Dean put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"What are you doing?"

"I…"Sam winced, adjusting his position on the bed. " I'm going to eat dinner with you guys. I mean… its _Christmas_."

"Boxing Day, actually," Dean winked, standing up. "Which means that you are in no way required to drag your ass downstairs and eat Bobby's turkey that would have otherwise given you salmonella. So you should consider yourself lucky that you get to sleep right now."

"Dean" –

"The older brother has spoken Sam."

"Fine," Sam grumbled in argument, although he laid his back down on the pillow, yawning.

Dean smiled, pleased that he had won the argument, and turned his back as he walked towards the door. "Bye Sammy."

There was a hesitancy, then in a very quiet voice, he heard "Dean?"

Dean stopped, turning around at Sam's voice, which didn't sound nearly as cheery as Dean's. It almost sounded like Sam was drunk, although Dean knew better. He was just tired. And of course, he was just being typical droopy Sam. What was on his mind this time? "What's up Sammy?"

"Just…"Sam hesitated, as if he had changed his mind. " Never mind."

"What?"

"I'm… I'm sorry I made you miss Christmas Dean."

Dean's face fell at the seriousness in Sam's voice. Was he serious? "Don't say that." He didn't mean it to come out harsh, but it did.

"Look Dean, I'm sorry. I'm always slipping up. If I hadn't been an idiot and went after the demon alone, none of this would have happened and" –

"Don't be." Dean hesitated, wondering how long Sam had been feeling like this. "Sam, I'm just glad you're alive. Christmas can wait."

"But" –

"The older brother has spoken," Dean repeated, both to close the conversation and to try and make Sam laugh a little bit. It didn't' work. "Common man, cheer up. I don't care about missing Christmas. I'm going downstairs to eat Bobby's cooking. What could be better?"

"It isn't funny Dean."

Dean sighed, watching his brother closely. Something was still wrong… "This isn't about missing Christmas, is it? Sam, what's wrong?"

"I told you."

"No, this isn't _really_ about Christmas," Dean pushed. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. "What were you saying about 'always slipping up' or whatever?"

"Dean, it's nothing" –

"No Sam it's _not_ nothing, because if it _was_ nothing you wouldn't have said it."

Looking down, Sam clenched his jaw. "I… I broke my promise Dean."

"What are you talking about?" Dean sat back down on the edge of the bed, talking softly. He was even more confused than ever.

"I…I said I wouldn't do it."

Dean paused, trying to get Sam to look him in the eye. "Do what?"  
"Use my powers," Sam mumbled, sniffling. If Dean didn't know better, he would think Sam was close to tears.

Dean tried not to say anything, tried not to jump to conclusions. He had done way too much of that lately. Sam was coming to him this time, which meant that he wasn't hiding anything. He waited for Sam to continue. When he didn't, he cleared his throat softly. "Sam" –

"I panicked, okay." Sam started rambling again, as if Dean's voice had set him off. "He just ran, and I knew he was going to try and escape, so I went after him. He just came out of nowhere and tacked me and I lost the knife and" –

"Whoa, whoa Sammy" – Dean held a hand out to stop Sam, to slow him down, but it didn't work.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do. All I kept thinking was that he was going to kill me, and then he hit me really hard in the stomach and I couldn't breath and I just…"His voice broke, and he looked down again.

"You… You exorcised it _after_ you got stabbed?" Dean tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, although he was unsuccessful.

Sam looked up slowly, as if confused. "Yeah…"

"I uh… wow." Dean paused, trying to regain his composure and get back on topic even though he was seriously impressed. "Sam, that's really… wow."

Sam huffed silently. "Not helping, Dean."

"Well what do you want me to say?" Dean looked back to Sam with honesty. "That you shouldn't have done it? Sam, I'm as freaked out by your powers as any reasonable brother should be, but I'm not stupid. You would have died if you didn't."

"I know…"Sam's voice was quiet, and Dean knew that he was still upset. " God Dean, how could you do it?"

"Do what?'

Sam hesitated, and it was enough for Dean to know that he was talking about the demon blood. "Sam…"

"I mean… I'm a horrible brother."

"No you're not."

"But I promised Dean." Sam's voice was laced with medicine-induced tiredness.

Dean paused, his face solemn. "And I promised that I would never listen to Blue Oyster Cult again. We don't always keep our promises Sam. You tried, and I'm sure as hell not going to get mad at you. Besides, it's Christmas!"

"No it's not."

"Whatever, it's box" – Dean looked at his watch. It was twelve-thirty. "It's the day _after_ Boxing Day. Close enough. It's still Christmas time." Sam was still quiet, and Dean sighed. "Look Sam, I know I've been an ass when it comes you your powers, but… But I don't _want _to be, okay? I want to be there for you for once. And that means that I'm going to have to try and understand this. If I was you, I would have done the same thing. You've got to stop tearing yourself up over this. Any and all energy right now should be saved for healing, eating Bobby's poisoned turkey and fighting with dad. Those are the only things I give you permission to do until you're better."

Sam allowed a half-smile, and then let it fade. "But Dean I" –

"No!" Dean smiled back, pointing a finger at Sam to silence him. "No more. Sleep now."

Sighing with annoyance, Sam pulled the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes. "Good enough?"  
Dean smiled down at his brother sadly. "Sam… It's going to be okay. You know that, right?"

Sam's eyes drifted open, and his face went serious again. He nodded slowly, although he didn't say anything, and let his eyes drift shut again. Dean wondered how much energy that conversation had taken out of the kid. He looked exhausted.

"Goodnight Sam."

"G'night Dean," Sam sighed quietly, giving Dean a smile of thanks that went unsaid. His eyes shut again, and he was asleep before Dean had stood up and walked to the door.

Turning around, Dean nodded slowly, sighing. He gave Sam another look, mumbling almost to himself. "Merry Day-After-Boxing-Day Sammy."


	17. Chapter 17

**One week later:**

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the stress across his stomach as he pulled on his button-up shirt, his arms behind him sliding into the sleeves. Rolling his shoulders a bit as the cloth slid over them, he ignored the pain in his gut. In the past three weeks, he had endured much worse, and much of it was without anyone's knowledge. _I guess that is why they call it recovery;_ Sam forced a half smile as he glanced at his reflection on the mirror in the spare room. His face was clean-shaven, free from bruises, cuts and any other clue that he had been attacked by a demon, or by anything for that matter. He still had a few cuts across his chest from when the demon pulled him across the floor, its fingers digging into his flesh, and there was a small bruise on the inside of his neck from being choked. And of course, there was the cut that left him with four inches of stitches across the left side of his stomach. But to the outside world, he looked healthy. _If I keep my shirt on at least._

Pulling up his shirt he gave the wound another look, has he had been doing a couple of times a day to check on it. It was pretty hard not too obsess over wounds, especially ones that you never neglected to notice. Sam felt like a little kid with a band-aid; it was hard not to think about it or notice it there. Looking carefully at the cut, he couldn't help noticing that it was slightly L shaped, as if the demon had hooked around with the knife after stabbing Sam, which didn't seem too far-fetched considering how they were fighting. It was one of those "attractive cuts," Dean had said the other day to tease Sam; one of those cuts that turned into scars that drove women wild. Sam had rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased that he seemed well enough for Dean not to obsessively worry about him all the time.

With a sight moan of annoyance, Sam shook his head a bit as another migraine started. He had been getting them in the hospital, which wasn't very unusual, but they had continued this past week, to Sam's dismay. They never got really bad, just irritating. Sam wasn't really sure why he got them, but he just shrugged them off as recovery symptoms. Of course, he hadn't told anyone. It was bad enough what he already had to go through to recover from being stabbed, and he didn't want to worry Dean any more than he had already.

"You coming or not?!" Dean's voice came up the stairs, and Sam smiled. There he was.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming! Keep your panties on!" Sam buttoned up his shirt, trying to hurry up. John, Bobby and Dean were going out, probably to some bar somewhere, and Sam had agreed to tag along. He, as was usual this past month, was on a strict no-drinking rule because of his injury. That meant he would be stuck sitting at a bar drinking water all night while Dean hit on chicks and they looked at him with weird looks wondering why he wasn't drinking along. But Sam didn't mind, as long as he got to go out with the guys.

Taking a long swig of the water bottle by the bed, Sam tried to shake the headache off. A night out on the town wasn't exactly the time to be a pain in his family's ass, or Bobby's for that matter. He had imposed on them all enough as it is. As he did the last button up, he rushed downstairs.

The night was late, and it passed as a blur. They all crowded into the Impala laughing and blaring Metallica, and Sam smiled to see them all happier than they had been in a long time. He tried to ignore the thumping of the music in his head, the stress on his stomach when he got in and out of the car. In the bar, they joined another group in playing pool, cards, and otherwise mingling altogether. Sam joined in with the cards, winning two hundred bucks in a poker game, but stayed out of the pool game, which would probably have involved him hitting his cut as he leaned over the table to shoot. So, while the three musketeers had good old time with their new friends, Sam passed away the night drinking water and talking causally with the cute bartender. The conversation was pretty one-sided, the girl being the type who's brains didn't work much above the neck, but at least talking to someone distracted Sam from the pain in his head and stomach.

"…and she was like 'he said he did', and I was like 'No way!', and then she said 'I know!'"

"Uh, yeah… Tell me about it." Sam gulped down another glass, trying not to say something that would give away the fact that he wasn't listening. It was pretty hard to listen when you were in pain. _Maybe I'm not ready to go out yet,_ Sam sighed, running a hand over his forehead. _Next time I'll just stay at Bobby's or something… I can't have fun here like this._ His hand flinched as his migraine flared again. It was worse this time. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair subconsciously.

"Um… Are you alright?" Sam looked up to see the bartender watching him with concern.

"I – er – yeah," Sam faked his most charming smile as he stood up from the barstool. "I'll uh, be right back…"

It was hard to keep himself walking at an orderly pace as he hurried to the bathroom, throwing open and locking the door behind him. Leaning against the wall, his hands shot to his head, shaking. There were no images, no thoughts to suggest a vision would occur. Just the pain in his head. Shifting from the wall when he felt he would collapse, he leaned over the sink, splashing his face with the coldest water that he could manage, and tried to clear his head. _Common Sam, you can do this. You've always gotten through this before. It'll be okay… _

After a few minutes, he shut off the water and sighed, clenching the edges with both hands till his knuckles white, and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. _What's happening to me?_

When Sam was convinced that he could leave the bathroom without collapsing, he unlocked the door and walked out, trying to walk as normally as he could. He adjusted his jacket, which had become ruffled, and pushed his bangs back from his face. Rounding the corner, Dean saw Sam and met his eye across the room, his face creased with worry. Sam tried to straighten his face as Dean murmured an excuse to his game buddies and hurried over.

"Hey man, you okay?" Dean hissed as he got to Sam, giving him a good concerned once-over. "You look white as a ghost and trust me, I know how bad that sounds."

"I'm fine," Sam lied, giving Dean a reassuring smile. "Just feeling a little uh… sick. No big deal."

Something in Sam's expression must have given him away, because Dean shook his head, patting Sam on the shoulder. "It's okay Sam, I was just ready to leave anyways." He gestured to John and Bobby to come over.

"No – Dean – finish your game," Sam looked to the pool table, where three men were waiting. "Don't loose your money. Its – I'm fine. Don't" –

"Keep the money," Dean mouthed to the men at the table. "We've got to go. Nice meeting you guys."

"No Dean" –

"Don't worry Sam, I shouldn't have dragged you out here anyways." Dean gave Sam a forgiving smile, although Sam could both hear the disappointment in his voice.

"But I'm the one who said I wanted to come…"Sam hated ruining Dean's good time. Hell, in this condition, Dean probably would have brought him home for a paper cut. Still… Sam did want to go home. A lot. He didn't' know what he would do if the headache got bad again in front of all these people.

"You okay kiddo?" Bobby gave him a curious look as he approached, as did John. "You don't look too good."

Sam sighed, trying to make less of the situation although he really _wasn't_ okay. "I'm fine, just" – He flinched as another pang of pain went through his head.

"Common," John gave him a worried look as he took Sam by the shoulders to lead him out. "Let's get you back to Bobby's."

Unable to fight it any longer, Sam just nodded, using his energy to keep the pain under control.

Inside the car, Sam watched with confusion as Bobby took the wheel, Dean sitting backseat with Sam as John took Sam's normal spot. Dean seemed slightly annoyed at his seat of choice and the amount of leg room denied to him, but he ignored it by giving Sam a reassuring "I've got your back Sammy" smile that seemed to explain why he was forcing himself in the backseat.

"Uh why…"Sam still questioned, a little bit shocked to see Dean letting someone else drive his baby.

"Designated driver," Bobby raised a hand as he pulled out of the driveway, answering at least part of the question.

"Uh… 'kay." Sam still wasn't convinced, but refrained from commenting because he knew why Dean _really _chose to let Bobby drive. He was taking care of Sam, as usual. It was a comfort to know that Dean was always there, although Sam often found it got them into a lot of trouble.

As they drove away, Sam leaned his head against the window, the glass cold against the side of his face. Dean gave him another worried look, and he straightened up a bit, trying not to worry his brother any more than he already had.

"So how are you feeling there big fella?" Dean asked quietly, but still lightly. Sam could still hear the worry in his voice.

Sam moaned in reply, giving Dean a half-hearted glare. "I'll be fine."

"I shouldn't have dragged you out here," Dean replied again, and Sam nodded softly.

"It really doesn't matter _where _I am," he admitted, trying to be honest without completely shooting his brother down. "There isn't really anything you can do…"

Dean didn't seem to like that very much, although he kept his comments to himself. He cleared his throat instead. "Where does it hurt?"

Sam hesitated, then mumbled "My head…"

Sam was met with a wondering look. "Do you think it might be…?"

"No." Sam didn't even let Dean finish his sentence. No, it wasn't one of his psychic visions. Sam wouldn't accept that. Not again. That was the last thing Sam wanted… _My powers have gotten me into enough trouble as it is without more visions…_

Dean hesitated at Sam's interruption, as if the urgency in Sam's voice spoke for itself as of how Sam really felt. His eyes softened. "Maybe you just need some sleep," he said slowly. "The doctor said that you're supposed to get lot's of sleep."

After a slight hesitancy, Sam nodded. He felt horrible for letting Dean go along with the lie, because he knew that Dean wasn't that naïve. Dean knew that Sam was hurting, and that it wasn't from a lack of sleep. The only thing that let Sam keep quiet was that there was a part of him, deep inside, that wanted to believe that nothing was wrong with him for once. Maybe it really was just recovery symptoms this time… Sam hated the thought that it could be his powers… That would be like admitting that something was wrong with him. Something was wrong with him. _Something is always wrong with me…_ Realizing that his eyes were wet Sam turned his head back to the window so Dean wouldn't see, preferring to dwell in the lie then let his brother know how scared he really was.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey! I just thought I would leave you all a little message saying how truly amazing it is to have all of your support in this story. What started out on a whim turned into something quite popular, and I'm very grateful to all of you for it. I just want you all to know that as long as you are here to read my stories, I will keep writing! Now come on! Feed the machine!**

**NOTE: I have decided to include song/movie/book lyrics/quotes, etc to accompany **_**some**_** of my chapters when it fits, and the song of choice today is Shattered by Trading Yesterday.**

**Now let's figure out what's going on with our loveable Winchester boys!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_**This day's ending is the proof of time (killing all the faith I know**__**)**__**  
**__**Knowing that faith is all I hold**__**…"**_

Dean gave Sam another glance, wondering why he wouldn't meet his eyes.

"_It really doesn't matter__where__I am…There isn't really anything you can do."_

Clearing his throat, Dean looked out the window again. Why did Sam have to say things like that? Sam was his little brother, and it was Dean's job to take care of him. Even if Dean couldn't help physically… he would always be there. And Sam knew that, so why couldn't Sam open up about these things? Even if the headache were caused by Sam's powers, which Dean hoped against hope that it wasn't, Dean would still understand. Well… he would try too. Dean would never really understand how it felt to have unwanted abilities that he couldn't control, just like Sam would never really understand his time in hell. But Sam tried to understand Dean, and he was there whenever Dean needed him.

That was Dean's job too. He cared about Sammy. He tried to understand… Sam knew that, didn't he?

"_If I didn't know you… I would want to hunt you. And so would other hunters." _Dean bit his lip, cursing himself a thousand times internally. He didn't really say that did he? Carefully, he gave Sam another quick look, who was still avoiding his eyes. Did Sam remember him saying that? _Of course he remembers… How could he not?_ Dean sighed again, feeling worn out. Did Sam know that he didn't mean it? Dean didn't mean it… he would never hurt Sammy on purpose. He would never have too either. Dean trusted Sam to know what was right and what was wrong… Sam was always the better one when it came to that. _Maybe if I put some more faith in the kid, I would stop saying things I regret._

This time Dean's eyes stayed on Sam, trying to tell what he was thinking. He was sitting straight but too rigid to be normal, and his face was always turned towards the window when he wasn't leaning against it. It was like Sam was staying as far away from Dean as he could get… like he was afraid or something. Like he was in pain.

Dean looked away again, cursing the world. Seeing Sammy in pain was probably the worst thing he had to go through, which was just Dean's luck considering that pain seemed to follow his brother around like a dog to a taxi-car. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew that no deal, no spell or charm or voodoo priest could take away Sam's demon blood or the things that it caused to happen to him. Sam was right… there wasn't a damn thing Dean could do to take this away. Not just that, but Sam didn't want to tell Dean because he was scared. And it killed Dean to know that.

When the car came to a sudden stop, Dean was jolted from his thoughts. He looked to his left to see Sam opening the door and sliding out of the car, and before Dean could even get his door open the other had shut. Bobby, John and he hopped from their seats, and followed along behind Sam's long stride to the front door. Without checking to see if the door was unlocked, Sam let himself in, leaning against he door as he did so. Dean could see that he was trying very hard to look like he was fine, but he was really hurting. Dean couldn't help wondering if his brother's pride was partially his fault.

As Dean opened the door, he noticed that Sam was already at the top of the stairs by the time he got inside. After noticing Bobby and John share worried looks, Dean gave them a reassuring nod before following after his brother. When he got to the spare room, he hesitated in the doorway when he noticed Sam unscrewing the bottle of painkillers with one hand, just another subtle hint that Sam was used to things like this. Dean wondered yet again what his brother had been up to when he was gone for those four months, as he watched Sam throw them all in his mouth at once and down them all with one gulp from a water bottle by his bed. "Hey Sammy," Dean let his presence be known as he walked into the room. "You feeling any better?"

"Not really," Sam admitted, giving a tired shrug as he sat down on the bed to untie his boots. "Don't worry about it man, I'll just sleep it off."

"You sure you're okay?" Dean tilted his head towards the pill bottle, which was still open by the bed. "Cause I don't usually see you popping three pills at a time…"

Sam gave Dean one of those "What are you getting at?" looks before turning back to his boots. "Two's the regular dose for someone my size Dean." He kicked off his boots, shoving them under the bed with his feet. "You keeping track all of a sudden?"

Dean held back a smart-ass comment, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms across his chest. "Sam…"

"Yeah?"

Hesitating, Dean looked into his brother's eyes. _You would tell me if something was really wrong… right?_ Instead of saying what he was thinking, Dean chickened out and looked away. "I think dad and Bobby want to watch the game or something. You alright here by yourself?"

Sam huffed; completely oblivious to what Dean was about ask him. "I'm not going anywhere Dean. Unless of course _you're _not alright with me here by myself," he said jokingly, a hint of a smile playing up the side of his face.

Dean laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

A smile lit of Dean's face at that brotherly sign of affection that only he and Sam understood, and was met with a similar smile before turning to go. What he didn't' see, as he hurried downstairs, was that Sam's smile disappeared the second he turned his back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_**A**__**nd I've lost who I am**____**  
**__**And I can't understand**____**  
**__**Why my heart is so broken**____**  
**__**Rejecting your love**____**  
**__**Without love gone wrong**____**  
**__**Life**____**  
**__**Less words**____**  
**__**Carry on**_

_**But I know**____**  
**__**All I know**____**  
**__**Is that the end is beginning…**__**"**_

Standing up to shut the door, Sam heaved a heavy sigh. He clenched his jaw as he unbuttoned his over-shirt and cursed himself for not staying quiet. There was nothing Dean could do for him, and that was a fact. So why not just shut up and let his brother have a good time? Sam had dealt with worse pain then this… the stitches on his stomach were a token of that. So why did he have to flake out?

When his shirt was halfway undone, the irony hit Sam. Hadn't he, just a few hours ago, been hurrying to button it up to go out with the guys? _Stupid idea Sam…_ He shook his head at himself, trying to ignore the little outbursts of pain that traveled from his temple to forehead and back again. His stomach didn't feel too great either… But at least that was manageable.

A minute later, Sam heard the TV flicker on upstairs, accompanied by the sound of a crowd cheering and people moving about. So Dean was watching the game after all. At least Sam had been convincing enough for Dean not to worry _too_ much. Dean wasn't aware of how good of an actor Sam could be if he really needed to be.

Sock feet slippery on the cold hard wood flooring of the bedroom, Sam marveled at how charming Bobby's house was once. A little elbow-grease was all it would take to restore it to its previous glory, although Sam knew that all hopes of fixing the house had died along with Bobby's wife. The house was in a way her tomb. He left it in that condition because it, with him, had changed forever. Although Bobby was like a second father to him, he mourned the loss of another innocent soul to the world of hunting because of a demon's choices that he had reacted to. Maybe that was why they got along so well… The Winchesters' entry into the world of demons and hunting was not their choice, although in a way it was Sam's fault.

He unzipped his duffel bag, looking away from the paint chipped walls of Bobby's "once charming" house to find his sweatpants. Changing as quickly as he could because of the cold room, he threw his bag on the floor at the foot of his bed and hesitated when he saw something fall from it to the floor. Stitches stretching as he stooped down to pick it up, Sam saw that it was the old picture of Dean, John and him that had been taken years and years ago. Fingers closing around the image Sam lifted it to his face, smiling as he did so, and sat down heavily on the bed. They had been so much happier then… things were so much simpler. Back then he could look his father in the face and say that he was living honorably. He could look his brother in the face and say that he wasn't the reason their mother was dead. That he hadn't lied to any of them or caused their deaths. Now… things were different. Sam wasn't just the freak of the family, he was the demonic freak of the family. And that had made all the difference.

With another pang in his head… Sam leaned against he head post, sighing. _It will go away soon Sam…_ Still going. _Any second now…_A few seconds later, his breath caught in his throat as it increased, and a feeling of dread began to fill the pit of his stomach, a familiar feeling he hadn't felt this strong in a long time. He raised his hand to his forehead, trying to find the will to make it go away and calm himself down enough go ignore it, but it only got worse. Both hands coming to his head now, Sam felt his knees hit the floor, although there wasn't enough room in his head for confusion as lights and sounds from the area around him began to blend with new and more vivid images. He doubled over, unsure now where the pain was coming from but desperate to make it go away, shaking. In a few seconds, the room in front of him gave way to a whole new scene all together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ruby sat up with a flourish, her hair falling in front of her face. Something was wrong. With Sam… She knew it.

Standing up, she shoved her boots onto her feet and threw on a jacket, the better to protect the body she had dawned to live like a human on earth. Without even thinking, she felt her eyes go black as she opened her consciousness, searching. If Sam was smart, he had his hex bag with him to prevent demons and angels finding him. _Hopefully John gave it to Sam first…_ Ruby shook her head at that thought. John may be an ignorant stubborn ox, but he was Sam's father and he knew what was best for him. He was too much like Dean to get along with Ruby, but the similarity they shared was that they all cared about Sam. Even though Ruby wouldn't be able to find Sam with her usual methods, she realized with a smile as she pulled out a hex bag of her own, she had been prepared for a time like this. Being a demon against demons meant that you could never be too prepared. Especially when it came to protecting a human's life… And Ruby was no amateur when it came to Sam.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get him! Get him you idiot!" Bobby spat at the TV, standing up in protest as his team of choice was running into disaster. "Get the ball!"

"Sit down!" John pulled at Bobby's shirt, shoving him out of the way and back onto the couch so they could all see, and Dean laughed at them.

Bobby looked at the TV again, angry. "Hurry up!"

"That's why you choose a team that can actually play," Dean teased, laughing at Bobby's unexpected enthusiasm for football. "Maybe then you could actually see a good game."

"Common and get the ball" –

Without warning, the TV turned to static. John stood up, frowning. "What the…"

The radio began blaring white noise, backtracking from song to song and making more noise than it should. Dean stood up also, followed by Bobby. They all looked around, concerned, and suddenly it hit. The ground began shaking, and they all covered their ears as the radio and TV continued screeching. The table fell on its side; a bowl of popcorn scattering on the floor, and a tall stack of books hit the floor with a loud crash, nearly hitting John as he dove out of the way. Dean heard something glass break, although he couldn't tell what it was, and fell to the floor as another tremor struck. A few moments later, he looked up from the floor to see Bobby and John in similar fashions around the room, the couch pinning the first to the ground and a pile of books being kicked out of the way by the later.

"What the hell was that?" Bobby cursed to himself as he pushed the couch off of him, pulling himself to a stand, and looked to John with confusion.

John shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck where something had hit him, and looked to Dean as he stood up.

Dean heaved a deep breath, trying to put together what had just happened. Another earthquake. That wasn't normal. That wasn't… Dean's mind did a standstill. The last earthquake had happened at the hospital, after he reluctantly agreed to let Ruby "save" Sam. After she injected him with demon blood. And after the last earthquake, Sam's heart had stopped.

"Sam!" Dean scrambled around the staircase, his boots hitting the floor quickly and Bobby and John were not far behind him, probably having the same realization.

_Sammy… What have I done?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dean! What's going on?" John hurried behind Dean as fast as his legs would take him, catching up with him at the top of the stairs just in time to see him throw a shoulder into the door, sending it open. He rounded the corner after his son, pushing through the door as it rebounded off the wall and smacked against him. "Dean" –

John was cut short at the scene before him, his heart nearly missing a beat. Sam was on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest and his hands on his head, shaking. It was more like convulsing, John realized with a shudder. Sam was twitching on the ground, moving about like he was having a seizure, and he was clearly in a lot of pain, muttering something under his breath. John had never seen one of his sons "visions", as his sons had called them, but from their description they had never been nearly this bad. Sam said they hadn't happened in years.

"Damnit Sammy!" Dean rushed forwards, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder to steady him. "Sam?"  
"What the hell is" –

John looked over to see Bobby rushing in, stopping just as confused as John. "Look Bobby" –

"I already know!" Bobby knelt down beside the boys, hands held out ready to help, but he looked unsure if touching the boy would hurt Sam or not. "God Dean, is this normal?"

"No," Dean closed his grip on Sam's shoulder, trying to get him to stop shaking about. "It's never been this bad. He's always been" –

_Thump!_ The sound of the door being broken in emitted through the house, and they all looked around in confusion.

"Take it!" Dean pulled out his demon-killing knife, holding it out to John. "They must have come for him."

John took the knife, his hold tightening on the handle. "Who?"

"I don't know; that's the problem. Just go!" He looked to Bobby and John, who rushed out the door and downstairs.

As they ran down the stairs, John's stomach did a back flop when he saw Ruby charging in, her face angry. "Where is Sam?!" She ordered, charging up the stairs. But John blocked her way.

"What the hell did you do to my son?" John held the knife out in front of him, fuming. "How the hell did you even find" –

"What did _I_ do?!" Ruby glared at the knife, but still stepped forwards. "Get out of my way!" She grabbed the wrist with the knife, pushing it out of her way and with it John, against the stairwell. She ran ahead of John, and left him and a confused Bobby left to follow.

"Ruby!" Dean looked to the woman in the doorway with shock. "What" –

"Oh my god!" Ruby rushed forwards, kneeling on Sam's other side, and put a hand on his free shoulder and another on his chest, trying to keep him from hurting himself.

"I thought you didn't believe in God," Dean glared, not at all comforted that she seemed so comfortable touching his brother. "What the hell did you" –

"Stop asking me that! I didn't do anything!" Ruby shifted positions so that Sam's head lay on her lap, and the other grabbed his arm on the ground. She leaned over him, her face close to his.

"What are you doing?!"

"Checking to see if he's still breathing," Ruby sat up, her eyes not leaving Sam for a second. "And we don't want him to hit his head on something. Hold – Help me hold him down." She pointed to Sam's chest and free side, and Dean helped hold his brother down from his seizure.

"Sam?" Dean looked at his brother's face, which was hard to do when he was shaking about, and he saw pain and fear etched across it. "What's happening to him?"

"I think it's a vision," Ruby explained, looking with worry to Dean's face. "Has this happened before since he was attacked?"

Dean hesitated, looking to Sam. "Once… the machine's were bleeping after a big earthquake. I thought it caused his heart to stop, but maybe it was the other way arou" –

"Oh…"Ruby moaned, silencing Dean on the spot. "His _what_ stopped?" She looked up to John, who was watching the scene unsure what to do. "Get me a knife!"

"A what?!" The three men said all together, and Ruby looked to Dean again, pulling back Sam's shirt to reveal the tattoo.

"I can't possess him with this," She glared down at it. "And I cant get it off by" –

"That's kind of the point!" Dean yelled back, and John stepped forwards incase he needed to intervene.

"If I'm possessing him than his heart _can't_ stop." Ruby looked up to Bobby, and John saw that she seemed to be almost pleading with her eyes. "It's just for a minute, okay? This isn't just about saving his life. Like it or not, Sam's the only one with enough punch to take Lilith out, and if he dies than we're all screwed. Do you _want_ hell on earth?" She looked to John, then to Dean. "Do you _want_ Sam to die?"

John hesitated, then sighed, handing Ruby the knife. "You better save him…"

"Dad what are you" –

"You heard her," Bobby sighed softly. "Dean she's got to do this."

Ruby took the knife from John's hand, lowering it to Sam's chest, and cut the edge of the tattoo across the line. Just as quickly, she lowered her head over Sam, and John watched in horror as the black smoke passed from her mouth to his. A second later, the brunette's body went limp against Sam, and Dean shrugged it off. They all watched for a minute, and then Sam gasped for air, coughing. Ruby didn't even try to move or sit him up at all, but just sighed deeply, looking around the room to the guys before closing Sam's eyes.

"What are you doing?" John asked harshly, not willing to let her posses his son a second longer than necessary.

The demon hesitated, then muttered "Checking."

"For what," Dean barked.

"Anything that shouldn't be here…"Ruby flexed Sam's fingers, his feet moving too, and rolled his neck on his shoulder a bit. She seemed to be testing his body for injuries. "He's… he's scared."

"Maybe that has something to do with the _demon _inside him!" John couldn't help glaring daggers at her.

"It's not that…"Ruby didn't seem surprised by John's outburst, which only made him angrier. " It's something else…"

"Look, is his heart going to stop or not?"

Ruby stayed very still, and for a second John thought that she had killed his son, but then she saw the chest breathing very slowly. There was hesitancy, then "No… I think I've stopped it. Bobby," Ruby opened Sam's eyes and looked straight at Bobby, who had been standing outside of the circle wondering what to do. "I want you to go downstairs and get towels and water fast. John, get that knife at the ready incase we have any unpleasant guests and make sure the hex bag stays with your son. Dean, get Sam's painkillers and help me up."

Bobby went downstairs right away, as did John after hesitating. Dean looked down, confused. "What?"

"Help me up. I don't want to hurt him."

"Oh," Dean gave Ruby – Sam? – a hand, putting it around the shoulder to lift his brother to his feet. "A demon with a heart. Classy."

"I already told you I'm done proving myself to you," Ruby muttered with Sam's husky voice. "Now get him on the bed."

Dean helped Ruby lay Sam's body down, and then Dean watched with worry as it went very still. "Ruby?" He hesitated. "Sam?"

When the sound of a gasp emitted behind him, Dean knew that Ruby had taken her old host back. He didn't look back as she stood and rushed to the bed just in time for Sam to start coughing, looking around with confusion as he woke up.  
"Easy there Sammy," Dean laid a gentle hand on Sam's arm as he looked around panicking and still coughing. He frowned at a drop of blood that hit the pillow. "Sam its" –

"No…"Sam shrugged away Dean's arm, still looking terrified. " Don't touch."

"Its okay Sam," Ruby's voice was softer than Dean had ever heard it, he took a moment to be surprised as she laid a hand on Sam's arm. "It's Ruby. Dean's here too. It's okay."

"Sammy…"Dean sat down on the side of the bed and noticed that Sam flinched at the movement. He frowned, even more concerned. Nothing his baby brother had ever seen in visions had scared him nearly this much… The poor kid was terrified. "Sam?"

Finally Sam stopped coughing, and Dean saw him wipe a few drops of blood from his mouth. His frown lines deepened, wondering where and why Sam was bleeding in the first place. "Wha…"Sam's voice was a tired sigh as he laid his head back on the pillow; blinking away the mental fog Dean knew still clouded his sight and mind. " D-Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy, it's me." Dean put a hand on Sam's, squeezing it a bit as subconscious reassurance. He noticed Ruby give him a weird look… was that jealousy?

Sam took a deep breath, looking around him, and his eyes met Dean's before hesitating on Ruby and coming back. "What…W-What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell _me_ Sammy…"Dean gave his brother another worried mental search before looking to Ruby, confusion in his eyes. She had said that Sam would be fine… didn't she?

Just then, Bobby came bursting in the room with a full glass of water in one hand, and a stack of towels under his arm. "Thank God, kid!" He gave Sam a gentle pat on the arm and set the towels on the edge of the bed, handing the water glass to Dean. "You almost gave me a heart attack there for a second" –

Dean gave Bobby a slight warning look for the words "heart attack," and Bobby caught himself right away.

"Sam!" John rushed in the room after hearing voices upstairs, sitting down right away at the foot of the bed and giving his son a broad worried smile. "Please, don't do that to me again Sammy."

Sam gave John and Bobby brief almost-smiling looks as he caught his breath back, but Dean was still worried about the scarred look on his face. All this attention wasn't helping. Sam wasn't even looking anybody in the eye… He even looked like he was just about to cry.

"Common guys… Give him some air," Dean ordered casually while giving Bobby a knowing look. "Can you give us a minute?"

"… Yeah sure Dean," Bobby nodded, giving Sam another comforting look as he slid out of the room.

Dean looked to John, raising an eyebrow for a second to try and tell the obvious. John's mouth twitched, looking from Dean to Sam and back to Dean. He, understanding what Dean wanted, gave Dean the tiniest of nods, along with a hidden glare that showed that the only reason he would take orders from his son was that he trusted him. "I'll see you later Sam, okay?" He gave his youngest a sad look before leaving the room himself.

"Ruby?" Dean cleared his throat, trying to tie down his pride long enough to be nice to her. _She _did _save his life…_ "You mind?"

"Already there," Ruby nodded understandingly while still carrying her usual glare, and her face softened a bit as she gave Sam one last look. Then, Sam and Dean were alone.

Dean hesitated, watching Sam. Sam still didn't meet his eyes, and reminded Dean more like a scared five year old than his ass-kicking little brother. "Sam?" He waited a second for Sam to give him that hurt-puppy-dog look, but it never came. "…Sammy?"

Sam chewed on his lip slightly, a motion that Dean at least recognized, and nodded softly. That would have to do for now.

"Sam… Sam look at me." Dean waited until his eyes were met, knowing that he had to pull his brother back into reality, and he was granted his hurt-puppy-dog look times a hundred. "Now Sam… I want you to tell me what you saw, okay?" It was hard not to feel like he was talking to a preschooler but Dean knew well that Sam was in shock and needed this. Sam looked back at the ceiling again, his eyes filling with tears, and shook his head. "Sam… Please."

Sam released a deep breath that Dean hadn't even noticed him take, and his voice finally broke. "Dean…"

"Sam you know I can't help you unless you tell me, okay? Sam… What did you see?"

"…Everything."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**What is Sam talking about? You will have to wait to find out! (Evil Laughter) Yes, I know I'm cruel! Go ahead and get mad, that's what I'm here for lol. So I know I'm not being very nice to Sam, but he makes such an angsty character! **

**Yes, I know this chapter is long. It's a treat for you all being such good fans!**

**REVIEWS ARE MY FOOD! KEEP ME ALIVE! PUSH THE BUTTON BELOW THESE WORDS! RIGHT BELOW HERE! **


	19. Chapter 19

Dean hesitated, his face stricken with confusion that Sam could see clearly even through his dizziness and mental-fog. "Everything?" He stumbled on the word, as if afraid of what Sam might mean by that. "Sam what is that supposed to mean?"

It was Sam's turn to hesitate, although he was for once grateful of the pain in his head and the heaving in his chest because it gave him an excuse. Sam couldn't tell Dean everything. That was fact. In this freak-show of a world Sam was sure of few things, and Dean's reactions were one of them. Some – well most – of what Sam had seen was not anything that would get Dean's seal of approval, Sam noted grimly. He closed his eyes for a moment, image-aftermath flickering and dying in front of his eyes like a light in his vision from staring to long at the sun. He saw what could only have been defined as hell on earth. Demons, fire, screams and a black sky that raged on for eternity. It had all happened so fast that Sam wasn't completely sure if what he saw was vision or imagination, but the faces of people he knew had been there, raging from Jess to Andy to Ellen. They had all been trapped in hell on earth, suffering forever. Faces of his family members and closest friends were there too, Sam remembered with a jolt. Bobby, John…Dean. But not Sam. Not in the same way anyways. Sam had watched it all as if through a dream, but although the faces of those around him had been blurry he knew and recognized his own. He had been suffering, just like the others. But it was different. They were testing him, trying to break him. Then, as if a video camera had turned off and been flicked back on a long time later, he saw himself again. His own face, but not his own person. The Sam in the vision wasn't Sam… at least not anymore. And seeing himself – the other self, anyways – do things, evil things, Sam couldn't help but flinch replaying it painfully in his head. _Is this what I'm supposed to become?_ Lilith was also there, as well as a dark being that clouded the image and never seemed to have a full face. Maybe it was too horrible that Sam mentally-blacked it out.

"…Sam?" Dean's voice ripped Sam from his mental sickness, and he opened his eyes with a jolt. "You still with me there Sammy?"

"Uh… yeah." Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to pass the look on his face off on headache alone. He cringed internally at what he saw, cursing his brother for always looking out for him so well. Did he really have to recall that again? It might not be a vision… Sam thought to himself hopefully, although he knew it was very unlikely. Maybe it was just a… waking dream. Maybe he just passed out from his night out on the town and had a bad dream. No big deal, right?

_God Sam, do you really think anyone would believe that?_ Sam frowned, looking back at the ceiling again. Fine, he would have to tell. The shit was going to hit the fan.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bobby raised his eyes slowly to meet Johns as they worked downstairs in re-piling the stack of books. John was quiet and tentative, as if he was trying as hard as he possibly could to hear what was going on upstairs. He also seemed really worried, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. The poor man just wanted to see his son, but Bobby knew as well as anyone that Sam and Dean were so close they were virtually two half's of the same person. They told each other everything, understood each other better than anyone else. And of course, Dean was the only one who was there for Sam's whole life, and Sam would want to tell him first what was going on. Bobby wasn't offended though. Those boys were like sons to him, but they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Bobby wondered whether John knew that. Maybe that was partially why he was so anxious.

"Found this," Ruby's voice cooed behind him, so sudden that Bobby almost dropped the book he was carrying. He turned around to see her holding a picture frame, the glass cover on the picture smashed. For a moment, he noticed a glimmer of understanding in her eyes, before he took the picture from her hands. It was a picture of him and his wife, smiling in their wedding attire. Bobby felt his jaw tighten, and wiped dust away from the shattered glass, clearing the area around their faces. Ruby walked away to re-attach the door, leaving him with his thoughts. It didn't seem like Ruby was one for long discussions, although he appreciated the thought.

"So… You think we are allowed up there yet?" Bobby cleared his throat, looking sideways back at John as he set the picture frame tenderly on the edge of the couch.

John sighed deeply, shaking his head as he grabbed another pile of books to straighten.

Bobby wasn't surprised at his quietness. _God he's so much like Dean… _ He stopped himself. _I mean… Dean is so much like John. Wow now I'm getting things mixed up. John hasn't been gone _that_ long Bobby!_

"You know he's going to be okay, right?" Bobby glanced again at John, dipping his trucker hat in the general direction of the stairs. "Dean's with him. He would never let anything happen to Sam."

"I know," John, admitted quietly, his deep voice tired. "But it should be _me_ up there. Since when is my own son telling me how to take care of my other son? I'm the father here, I should know what's best for them."

Bobby nodded slowly, giving his old friend an honest frown. "You've been gone a long time John. They had to grow up. And without you all they had was each other."

"I feel like I've been replaced. I mean… I never wanted any of this to happen. I know the boys haven't even told me half of the things that have happened in the past two years, and it hurts to see them so cold. I knew Dean was hard, and Sam always had that toughness in him somewhere, but it's scary to see them like this Bobby, it really is. I thought I was protecting them from that when…"He trailed off, looking down again.

"When you made the deal," Bobby finished for him.

"Yeah. I… I never thought things would go this far. Sam completely knows about his powers, about how he got them, about… well everything. He knows about them and uses them. And Dean sold his soul Bobby! I never meant for the deal to backfire like this…"He sighed again, looking towards the stairs. "I thought I was giving them the chance to kill the yellow-eyed demon and settle this once and for all."

"But they did, John. They killed it. They did it for you, did it for Mary."

"But at what cost? Sam died and Dean went to hell for it. The devils gate opened too. All I know beyond that is that whatever happened they don't want to talk about it. I feel like I don't even know my own sons anymore Bobby. It's killing me. Does…"He hesitated, frowning. "Does Dean remember? Hell I mean…"

Hesitating, Bobby looked downward, his hat hopefully hiding his eyes. "John…"

"Oh god!" John bit his lip, shaking his head, and Bobby noticed his eyes get wet. "He does, doesn't he?"

"I… Yeah I think so John. He hasn't told me directly but I think he does."

"And…And Sam? What… what's happened to him since I… well you know. He hasn't really told me much and well…"John stopped his mumbling, frowning. "Bobby what happened to my boys?"

"Well…"Bobby cleared his throat, knowing that Sam and Dean were out of earshot and still feeling uncomfortable. " When um, when you died, they were pretty messed up. Dean especially. It didn't take long for them to put together the pieces and figure out what you did, and he was pretty heartbroken, poor kid. I tried talking to him, but when you Winchesters get that way its like talking to a brick wall…

"They went on some hunts without me, and a few months after …that… Sam found out about your warning to Dean. We could tell for a while that Dean was carrying some sort of secret and eventually Sam got it out of him. He didn't exactly take it too well. As far as I know though, the only ones who know about Sam's powers are the Harvels and us. Anyhow, after that Meg broke loose and possessed Sam and uh… well that didn't exactly go the way we would have planned it. She killed a few hunters and attacked Jo Harvel. Meg seemed to know her stuff, and Sam almost had a bullet in his brain by the time she was done. She was trying to get Dean to kill Sam, but he figured out that Sam was possessed. Anyhow, Dean called me after Sam ran off and I caught Meg with some holy water. We worked on an exorcism and managed to get the damn thing out of him. He was pretty confused and had no clue how he got there, so hopefully he wasn't awake for much. We never really talked about it much after that though. If he _does_ remember anything, I never heard about it.

"And than after that, Sam went missing again and we eventually found him in a ghost town on the end of some guy's knife. I ran after the kid who did it but never managed to catch him, and when I got back Dean was just crying over Sam's dead body. We took Sam back to clean him up and I told Dean we had to salt and burn him but he wouldn't listen. Eventually Dean chased me out, and the next thing I know he's showing up at my front doorstep with Sam on his tail. Didn't tell Sam what happened either. I think the first time Sam heard about the deal was when Azazel told him, and after that he spent a whole year working his ass off to try to save Dean. Honestly I was just as worried about him than Dean. He didn't seem himself, you know? We worked and searched until the year was up, but we never found a way to break the deal. We went after Lilith, but she possessed Ruby's host right out of her and killed Dean. Almost killed Sam too. She tried at least. I came back to find Sam over Dean's body, and it was the same damn thing all over again. I told him what I told Dean, and he said that Dean would need a body to get back into when he got Dean back, and disappeared pretty quickly after that. I was scared shitless that he was going to make a deal, but he disappeared good and I couldn't find him at all. Four months later Dean shows up on my doorstep again and we track down Sam through some old phone number Dean knew. Sam was convinced that Dean was a shape shifter or a demon or something, and if I wasn't there I'm sure he would have killed him. Apparently Ruby had found him and they started exorcising demons together using Sam's powers and stuff... Dean was pretty upset when he found out, and far as I know Sam hasn't done it since…"Bobby knew that he wasn't exactly setting the boys up for the Nobel peace prize, but John was one of his oldest friends and he deserved to know. Since Dean got back, we've basically been hunting and trying to get Lilith before she breaks any more seals."

John nodded softly, taking all this in. "You will have to tell me about those seals later."

"Of course."

"Lilith too. She sounds like one nasty broad."

"Of course."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah John?"

Hesitating, John cleared his throat. "When I get to see them again, when things get back to normal… How come I don't even know what I'm going to say to my own boys?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean gave Sam another look, as if wondering if Sam's quietness was good or bad. "You gonna tell me or not Sam?"

Sam nodded hesitantly, and shied away from Dean's curious glare. "Look Dean I…"

"Sam whatever it is, you can tell me." Dean raised his eyebrows, as if reading Sam's mind. "It's okay."

Sam nodded, clearing his head. _Where the hell do I start?_ He put his arms under him, pushing himself to a sitting position. Dean made a movement like he was about to help, but stopped. He probably figured that Sam needed the space right now or something. It didn't' really matter. "Well I, uh… At first it was kind of hard to tell what was going on. It was kind of chaotic, you know? And there was all this…"_Don't say fire Sam… _He gave Dean a glance, wondering how he was supposed to describe hell on earth without bringing up a bunch of memories for Dean. But honestly, how were you supposed to describe hell? He sighed. "Fire. There was fire everywhere, and this sort of black fog-like smoke. It might have been demon smoke. And there were a lot of people there, from all over. Most of them I didn't know, but I recognized a lot of people we knew. Ellen, Bobby, Jo, Ash, Andy, Gordon, Caleb" –

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted, holding out a hand. "But Gordon is dead. So are Ash and Andy. Caleb too."

"Yeah that one got me too," Sam admitted honestly, trying to keep as much to detail as possible without going into the specifics of his vision. "I think I recognized other people we knew who passed away too. There were a whole lot of people, man. It all passed in kind of a blur and I might have imagined that part, but it looked like everyone we ever knew."

"Wow… Okay," Dean nodded, gesturing for Sam to continue. "Then what? What were the people doing?"

_Suffering. _ _Torturing. Dying. What do you want to know?_ "It was kind of hard to tell what was going on half the time, but I don't think any of them were exactly having a good time," He raised an eyebrow implicatively, hoping that Dean wouldn't ask for details. "Everybody was kind of running around and screaming and the smoke just kept moving about really fast around everybody. Half the time I couldn't even see what I was looking at."

"So you said that everybody we ever knew was there?" Dean raised an eyebrow, still managing to look serious and concerned at the same time. "Was I there?"

_Don't ask me that!_ "Er… Yeah. I think I saw your face at one point." _Well… "At one point" can be defined as " a lot," right?_

"And what was I doing?"

"Sam as everybody else man, running and screaming. It was like a freaking mosh-pit."

Dean nodded slowly, and Sam saw a hint of recognition flash in front of his eyes. He hoped that none of this would spark any memory whatsoever. "And who else was there?"

"Dean… don't" –

"Common Sam, if someone is in danger I need to know. I want names Sam."

"Uh… Bobby, Dad, Ruby, Ava, Ritchie… er… Jessica, Bella, Mom" –

"Mom?" Dean's voice dropped yet another notch on the worry-scale. "And wait, why was Ruby running and screaming? She was scarred?"

_It wasn't because they were scarred Dean, it was because they were in pain. Don't make me spell this out for you._

"Well she wasn't exactly running and screaming," Sam tried to say this as normally as he could. "She wasn't possessing anyone. She was just this black smoke that was kind of running from the other black smoke."

"Than how did you know it was her?"

"Can you stop asking so many questions," Sam snapped, then took a deep breath to steady himself. "I don't know how I know, okay? I just knew it was Ruby."

Dean hesitated, frowning at Sam's outburst. Any other time then this, Dean would have sent either a sarcastic or a bitchy comment back, but he seemed to let that one slide. "What else do you remember?"

"Um…"Sam pretended to really think about it, hating himself for being such a liar. But in his defense, he was telling Dean everything important. _Besides_, Sam reasoned with himself,_ Dean doesn't want to tell me everything he's been through. So why should I? Keeping this to myself isn't hurting anyone._ "Not much. My visions haven't exactly been in high-deff or anything. It was all kind of blurry."

"Okay so where were you in all of this?" Dean gave Sam a worried look, always worried for his pain-in-the-ass little brother. Sam knew he didn't deserve it.

"I guess I was with others, sort of."

"_Sort of_?"

_Damnit Sam!_ _Keep your mouth shut!_ "I'm… I'm not really sure what I was doing," he admitted honestly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Okay? I don't know…"

Dean leaned back the smallest bit, and Sam could practically see the wheels moving in his brain. He seemed to know that he had hit the sore spot in the story. "Okay…"He nodded slowly, frowning in thought. " Sam, it's okay. I just want you to tell me what you saw, alright?"

Sam clenched his jaw, feeling his mask fall apart again. He knew he was a fraction of a second from falling apart, but he couldn't stop it. Sam shook his head a little bit, unable to do much more, and looked away.

"Common Sam," Dean prompted gently. "You can tell me."

More aggressively, Sam shook his head again. His voice was quiet. "You'll hate me…"

Although Sam was deliberately not looking at Dean, he noticed the shock on his brother's face. "Sam, I would never hate you. You're my brother, I love you" –

"But you will," Sam could barely hear his own voice, and he knew that he was on the verge of hysterics. "You will. So will dad…"A mental image of the evil Sam in his vision popped into his head, and he flinched. "I can't – I don't wanna go darkside Dean. You'll hate me. I'm scared and" –

"Whoa, whoa Sam!" Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, jerking him slightly back to reality. It was a gentle shove, although to Sam it felt like a punch. "Snap out of it, okay! I don't hate you, and you aren't going darkside. Just tell me what's going on."

"I…"Sam's voice hitched with a sob. " I don't know Dean, I think I-I snapped. I don't know what was wrong with me."

Dean's face hardened slightly with recognition, although Sam couldn't see it. "Sam, you're not going to" –

"You know what this means Dean." Sam looked into Dean's eyes, trying to make him understand. "Dad warned you that one day… if I turned out that way" –

"Well dad left!" Dean shouted back, suddenly furious. "He wasn't the one who carried you out of our house when it was burning to the ground, or drove you to your first school dance. He wasn't the one who died for you Sam!"

Sam flinched back, knowing that every word was true, and he saw Dean's face get sad at the sight of his brother scarred. "I know Dean… That is why you have to do it."

"Sam no way" –

"But the demon blood" –

"Dammit Sam!" Dean left the chair and sunk to his knees at the edge of the bed, grabbing Sam by the shoulders to make him look at him. "We are not going to have this conversation again."

"But… but the vision Dean. My visions aren't ever wrong."

Dean hesitated, and Sam knew that he had finally hit a nerve of truth. "Sam… that isn't true. He raised an eyebrow, as if knowing something that Sam didn't. "You had a vision that I would kill that guy when I didn't, and you had a vision that Max Miller would kill me, and he didn't. Those things happened because _you_ stood in the way of them happening, Sam. _You_ can control what you become, and nobody else."

Sam shook his head, unwilling to believe otherwise. Dean did have a point, but that didn't mean Sam could fight it. He couldn't fight forever. "Dean" –

"I don't _care_ who told who what or who has what powers or who thinks what," Dean interrupted. "Dad said what he thought was right at the time, okay? But he was wrong. And we killed the yellow-eyed son of a bitch who did this to you, okay? You proved that you are better than him Sam…"Dean cleared his throat, his voice getting quieter. "You are my brother Sam. I love you. You are _good_, and you are going to stay that way. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Sam hesitated, wondering how he could get Dean to really understand. He didn't get it. Only Sam knew the truth.

"…Sam?"

Sam brought himself to nod slowly, anything to make Dean happy again. But this wasn't over. He had to make Dean understand somehow.

"Now Sam… we are going to figure this out," Dean continued, back in big-brother mode. For now, he seemed satisfied that he had convinced Sam. "But not today, okay? Whatever it was that you really saw, we are going to figure out what it means. But today, you are going to get some sleep. Everything is okay. Alright?"

Sam nodded again, going through the motions that he knew Dean wanted to see, but inside he was terrified. "Yeah… everything's alright."


	20. Chapter 20

Sam's eyes shot open abruptly, now completely sure that everyone in the house was asleep. He looked to the alarm clock by his bed. _4:41._ That means it had been four hours since they got back from the bar, and three by the time Sam had recovered from telling Dean about his vision. Everyone would sleep a little later than normal, that Sam knew. Bobby would probably not get up till nine, and John might even make ten. Dean, still being completely worried about his brother, would be up bright and early at seven. But Sam hadn't fallen asleep. And he wasn't going to either.

Sliding his legs out from under the covers and throwing back the blankets slowly, Sam pulled himself to a sitting position. He took a minute to steady the head rush he got from sitting up too fast, and re-adjusted the bandages on his chest and arms from his vision. Other than the context of the vision itself, Sam was surprised at how bad it had been. Sure, mind-splitting headaches weren't unexpected from this, but he had never had anything close to a seizure. And if Dean's theory was true, his heart had – or almost had – stopped. That was a first. Not to mention, he noted with distain, the bandage across his chest where his tattoo had been cut away to let Ruby possess him. Dean had gave him a very short summary of what had happened while the vision took place, and he said that Ruby had possessed him to prevent a heart attack. Sam wasn't sure what he thought of that, not yet. He would need time to think about it, and time to talk to Ruby about it. They hadn't exactly been "best friends" lately.

As quietly as he could muster, Sam pulled on his jeans and over-shirt, cursing silently at his stitches as they caught on the buttons. Stupid cut. Stupid demon killing knife that gave him the cut. Stupid demons that made him need the stupid cut. Stupid demon blood from stupid demons. Stupid destiny from his demon stupid blood. Stupid Sam. Stupid, stupid weak Sam…

He pulled a small pen from his wallet, scribbling a short message to Dean, and threw it back on the bed on top of the note where Dean would easily see it. Dean wouldn't be happy to see him leaving, but at least Sam thought to leave a note. He didn't have to. But he had to leave. It was that easy. Leaving was the last thing Sam wanted to do, but it was the only way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Once I called you brother__  
__Once I thought the chance__  
__to make you laugh__  
__Was all I ever wanted..._

_And even now _

_I wish that God had chose another__  
__Serving as your foe on his behalf__  
__Is the last thing that I wanted..._

_You who I called brother__  
__Why must you call down another blow?_

_Is this what you wanted?_

_Then let my heart be hardened__  
__And never mind how high the cost may grow__  
__This will still be so…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dad!" John was jolted out of an unusually mellow dream by a rough shake. When his eyes found the arm on his shoulder, he followed it to find his son's grief and worry stricken face. "Dammit dad, wake up!"

"Mm' awake," he pulled himself to a sitting position, all his army training allowing him to get his senses into alert within seconds from sleep. "Dean, what's" –

"Sam's gone!" Dean shoved a crumpled up piece of paper into his hands before turning around and grabbing a broom from the floor beside the couch where John slept. "Bobby!" He hit the roof with the broomstick loudly a few times.

"What…"John squinted to read the messy scrawl in the dark, shaking his head. " What does this mean?" He looked up to his oldest son, and back down to the note. It read:

_You will understand some day. Please don't hate me. _

"It means that he's gone," Dean was throwing on his leather jacket, and his boots were already done up. He gave John an impatient look as he shoved his white-handled .45 into the back of his waistband. "He left." Dean grabbed the broom again, pounding on the ceiling. "_Bobby_!"

"Dean, what" –

"I swear, when I find Sam he's getting his ass kicked" –

"Dean!" John was on his feet, shoving his arms into his own jacket. "Why the hell did he leave in the first place?"

"He…"Dean dropped the broom again, hesitating with a look of worry on his face. " He was freaked out last night. Something he saw in his vision made him think he was going to go darkside or something. He told me that I was going to hate him."

"And you didn't tell me this, _why_?" John shouted back, surprised, as yet another secret of his sons' secrets fell into place.

"We were going to tell you in the morning," Dean admitted with a slight defeat look, but he wore more bravado than normal when arguing with John. "Sam was pretty much hyperventilating. I think the tension would have killed him right after that."

"Yeah," John argued. "But" –

"What the hell is going on here?" Bobby stormed down the stairs fully clothed – and of course that included his trucker hat – and wearing a deep scowl. "You do realize that some people in this house need their rest, right? And I'm not exactly jumping with energy either" –

"That's what this is about," Dean rounded the staircase to meet Bobby at the bottom, leaving John in the living room. "Sam's gone. He ran away."

"He…"Bobby stopped cold at Dean's words, and he seemed to read something from Dean's expression because he pulled out his car keys immediately. " Dammit!"

"Let's go," Dean headed for the door, but Bobby caught him by the arm.

"Wait a second boy," Bobby raised his eyebrows with authority at Dean, making John feel a bit left out. "He took his things?"

"Yeah. His stuff's gone. He even cleaned out his section of the weapons."

"That means he would have his cell phone," Bobby continued, trying to calm Dean down. "You can trace it, right?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, we just need the computer…"He hesitated. " Oh no."

"What?" John rushed forwards, creating a triangle between the three men.

"Its Sam's computer," Dean looked from Bobby to John. "He would have taken it with him."

John looked to Bobby for help, but the man shrugged back, just as stumped. "He knows us pretty well, I guess," Bobby sighed.

"We can trace with _another_ computer in the morning," John tried to be the calm one, using his military training to assure them. "It's gonna be" –

"He'll have destroyed the phone by then," Dean pulled out the Impala's keys, heading for the door. "He knows we would try to trace him."

John hesitated, but then cut his son off. "Dean, what about… You said an _angel _pulled you from hell?" John knew it was reckless, but it was the only way. He raised an eyebrow, trying to get Dean to read his mind.

Dean's face was blank with confusion, but then recognition hit his eyes. "No, no, no. Dad, that isn't a good idea."

"And why not?!"

"Let's just say that we aren't exactly the angel's favorite people right now," Dean looked at Bobby in understanding. "Sam least of all. They are kind of prejudiced when it comes to him."

"Than what are we supposed to do?"

Dean took a few deep breaths, his face lowering. He seemed to be considering something. "Dad, you aren't going to like it."

John scoffed, reminding himself of Sam even without meaning too. "Nothing is worse than this, Dean. What do you want to do?"

Slowly, Dean raised his eyes to John, and he saw the familiar face Dean wore when he was waiting to be yelled at. "We have to call Ruby."


	21. Chapter 21

**Guys, I am SOOOOOOOO sorry about uploading the wrong chapter last night... my mistake. I was updating two stories at once, and I accidentally put chapter 21 from my OTHER story instead of this one. Sorry about those of you who were confused, and a big humungous thank-you to those who pointed it out. You are all amazing!**

**Anywho, THIS chapter is right, and now you can continue reading!**

**Sorry again!**

* * *

"We need to _what_?!" John raised his eyebrows in that father-knows-best look, and crossed his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "Dean, we are not calling Ruby, no way" –

"Dad we don't have a choice," Dean interrupted back, taking a step forward to push his point. "She will be the only one who can find Sam, and you know that!"

"But she's a demon. No, we just have to use the methods we always have. The three of us, and Bobby. Our methods have always worked fine. We don't worth with demons, Dean. I didn't raise you like that" –

"I'm not asking for your permission."

"I…"John hesitated as his son's words sunk in. He frowned, looking up to Dean crossly. "Than why are you asking me?"

"I'm _telling_ you, dad," Dean continued with a note of authority that he had never used with John before, although his voice was pleading. "We need to call Ruby. Our old methods got us through rough spots our whole lives, but we are at war now. And we managed to snag ourselves a little spy from the other side who actually can be used, so we need to use her. For some reason, Sam trusts Ruby, so she's probably our best bet for bringing him home right now. Ruby's helped us a few times now and she can do the job right."

John looked to Bobby for help, trying to get his oldest friend to see his side of things. The man looked at him with sad eyes, removing his trucker cap and smoothing down the balding hair before sighing. "He's right John. Sam's smart, and we've been through situations like this a few times. We wont be able to track him without getting other hunters involved, and that is a big red flag with Sam's visions. We don't want other people to know what's going on. I know Ruby isn't exactly the pin-up poster for innocence but we can trust her enough. John… this is the only way."

From Bobby, John's eyes moved to Dean, and then back a few times. Things were starting to fall back into place. John thought he had invented living on the razors edge, but apparently his sons had reclaimed the sport and made it their own. And Bobby knew all about it. John had been replaced in almost everything. Dean had Bobby, Sam had Dean, and John wasn't needed anymore. That knowledge hurt.

As if able to read John's mind, Dean took a slower step into the circle, coming between Bobby and John so he would be forced to look his son in the face. "Please dad," his voice was softer, using the voice that he had used when begging John to go visit Sam at Stanford with him after the big fight. "Sam needs us to do this. We need to make him see what he's running away from, and he needs his dad…. _I_ need my dad." Dean cleared his throat, his Winchester pride keeping him from going any further into chick-flick territory. "Someone's got to boss me around, eh? Just like old times."

At that, John couldn't help letting slip a little smile, although his eyes were still hard. He nodded. "Alright. Call the demon up."

Dean smiled at that with a nod and reached for his phone, but John grabbed his wrist first. Dean looked up, confused. Apparently he thought the moment was over.

"But," John warned, his voice back into commander-mode now that his son was back to normal. "Don't let me see that attitude again or there will be trouble boy, you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes sir," Dean wiped the smile off his face, although his eyes were still soft. For now, things were back to normal. Dean _did_ need his father still, and hopefully that wouldn't change for a while yet.

"I mean it boy, you may be my size but I can still kick your ass."

Dean gave a little laugh, clearly doubting that, but he refrained from saying anything. "Yes sir."

John let go of Dean's arm, and he pulled out his phone, typing a phone number by memory into it before holding it to his face. After a few seconds, John heard a click on the other end, and a woman's voice.

"Ruby, it's about Sam. You haven't seen him, have you?"

Short pause.

"Damn… Well he took off. Yeah, I know. … Don't start…. Get back to Bobby's as fast as you can, now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a good seven hours, Sam pulled Bobby's old car into the first hotel he saw, and jumped out as quickly as he could manage before grabbing his bags from the trunk. He shut the trunk with his elbow and moved around the back of the car to kick the door shut before heading into the lobby, hiding a wince as the weight from the duffels pulled at his side. But he would be okay. He was built Winchester tough, just like his father and brother, and a little stab wound wasn't going to get in the way of what he had to do. _Well…_Sam admitted to himself. _A big stab wound. But that doesn't change anything. I've been through worse scrapes than this._

He made his way to the front desk, dropping the bags at his feet while he pulled out his wallet. "One room please," he mumbled as he looked up to the attendant watching him with uncertainty, and tossed his credit card on the table. He almost expected the man to ask "two queens or a king," as some of the idiot tellers always did when they thought Dean and Sam were a couple. Sam had always laughed at that, because he knew how embarrassed Dean would get. Dean would blush, get this indignant look on his face and be unable to say anything before Sam would explain that they were brothers. Sam was waiting for the comment, waiting for someone to point out Dean's presence. But the comment never came, and Sam wouldn't get to see his brother's embarrassed face at any funny comments. He was alone.

The man waited patiently for Sam to type in his password, and Sam did so with a slight apologetic look for spacing out. The man watched him with concern, as if afraid that he was going to fall over or something. It wasn't _that _obvious, was it? Sam argued mentally to that, knowing that he was just being paranoid. The man wouldn't be that worried about him. The only wound he was hiding now was hidden under his jacket. And the one on his heart. But the man wouldn't notice that, because Sam was a good actor. He knew well enough now how to take care of himself. And it was the only way to keep his family safe anyways. He could patch his heart up some other time.

"Thanks," Sam shoved his credit card back into his wallet, and gave the man a false smile before turning around to grab his bags.

"Wait!" The man called out, and Sam turned around to see him holding something out to him. "Sir, you forgot your room key."

"Oh…yeah thanks." Sam took it from him and left again, grabbing his bags and marching upstairs. There was no elevator, but Sam forced himself up three flights of stairs with both of his bags in hand. It was amazing what you could do when you were alone. He found his room – room 347, just his luck being the farthest room possible from the lobby other than the janitors closet – and shoved the key in the lock roughly before throwing the door open. He dropped the bags on the empty bed and turned around to throw the lock on the door and bolt it too. He shut the curtains to close out the afternoon light, because after seven hours of driving he had completely lost his sleeping time. Then, when he checked the room over and made sure he had a good enough arsenal at hand in case of emergencies, he collapsed on the bed in his clothes, not even bothering to pull aside the covers. He was asleep within seconds.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean held the phone to his ear impatiently as it rang, and then in a second or two he heard a click. "Dean," Ruby's voice acknowledged on the other end, already knowing who she was talking to, "What's going on?"

"Ruby," Dean explained as fast as he could, trying not to slur his words as his worry came back full-throttle. "It's about Sam."

"What about Sam?" Ruby almost cut Dean off, her voice going up a notch in a way that Dean found a little strange. She seemed really worried, which he supposed was a good thing, although it was still weird to see her having emotions.

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Uh… other than last night when I saved his ass," Ruby continued with a pinch of sarcasm. "Then no."

"Damn," Dean cursed, hoping that it would have been that easy. "He took off."

Dean could practically feel Ruby brooding furiously on the other end. "You lost him already?!"

"Yeah… I know. Don't start. Get back to Bobby's as fast as you can, now."

" It would be faster if I just start looking now," Ruby interrupted quickly, taking charge with no surprise to Dean. "Does he have his hex bag with him?"

Dean hesitated, confused. "He has a hex bag?"

Ruby huffed on the other end. "Never mind. I'll check places I think he might be and start there. Do you have any idea why he left?"

"He was pretty upset about something he saw in his vision last night," Dean offered a slight bit of info, still unwilling to trust Ruby with the whole story. "I think he ran away."

"Hmmm…"Ruby listened intently. " Ran away… You _noticed_?"

"Shut up smart-ass, we need to find him. Now are you going to help us out or not?"

Ruby laughed, although her voice still had that protective edge to it. "Already left, short-bus. I don't sweat the small talk. Now since Sam can't travel too far in one night, I want you to get in the car now. First place you should check is any place you think he would go to for help. Maybe another psychic, maybe another hunter. You know anybody like that, you get them on the phone. I'll call you if I find anything. Oh yeah, and drive fast."

"Another psychic? Wait Ruby" –

Dean was cut off when the phone line went dead. _She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't sweat the small talk._ "Alright, change of plans." Dean shoved the phone in his pocket and looked up to the two men in front of him. "Ruby's flying solo until she can get a whiff of Sam's trail. I guess she doesn't want us dragging her down or something, I don't really care. What we have to do is look for Sam on our own in the meantime. Bobby, he probably took one of your old cars, so when you find out which one, we can run a red flag so that whenever it gets sold we can pinpoint the locale. Whenever he sells the car it can alert us. I think we should pull out all the stops and call any of our old hunter friends who he could have gone too. Ellen, Jo, Missouri, anyone. For now, I think the best place we should drive is west. Two weeks ago there were demonic omens there, and I think Sam might be itching for a hunt."

"Let's go," John threw the door open and stormed outside, and Bobby followed suit, looking like a couple of men who were not to be messed with, despite their ages.

Bobby was grumbling something Dean couldn't hear, although as he slammed the door behind them and made way for the man to lock it he thought he heard the word "Idgit" thrown in somewhere. Good ol' Bobby.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the next three days, Sam did everything he knew of and more to stay indiscreet. Bobby's old car was traded for another – albeit crappier – one to avoid suspicion, and his cell phone was replaced too. He had wanted to sell the car – hopefully some of the money would have gotten back to Bobby – but knowing that it could trace him, he abandoned it instead. He felt horrible stealing Bobby's car in the first place, considering everything the man had done for him and his family but there had been no other means of escape. Sam even went as far as to re-register his laptop IP address, although he doubted anyone looking for him would know enough to search in that method. He stayed in the hotel room, under a name that had created after Dean's death and hadn't used since Dean's resurrection, and refrained from using any credit cards or fake ID's that could sent red flags to anyone at home. Not that he was really using anything. Most of his time was spent in the hotel room, partially because he hated climbing the stairs, and partially because he was too busy researching for any telltale demonic omens nearby. But for now, there was nothing.

Life was routine¸ just like it had been after the trickster had let Dean die, just like it had been after Dean went to hell, and just like it would be from now on. Sam was good at routine, because it kept him sane. He had to get back into his routine lifestyle, because that was the only way to survive. Sam had experimented enough with what Dean had called the "emo" lifestyle after Jess's and their fathers death, and he couldn't do it again. It was much easier to be numb, to go from day to day just getting by even if it meant not smiling, as long as he wouldn't have to face who he was or what had happened. A part of Sam, the part that had always been there, told him that it was no way to live. That it was stupid and foolish and it would bring no happiness now or ever. But the other part of Sam, the part that had kept him alive all these years, told the other part to shut up. Because for now, he would _never_ be truly happy. He accepted that. But for now, he just had to stay sane. That was the important thing. So routine numbness gave him that temporary sanity.

Routine numbness was easy to accomplish with practice. Wake up, shower, eat, research, eat, research, sleep. That was day one. Day two included more research and an hour of redoing all his bandages and stitches by himself. That was a painful and messy chore without help. But although having his father around had been a wonderful luxury lately, and he was used to Dean backing him up, he could make due. Sam would even go as far as to say that he had gotten used to having Ruby backing him up too, but that time had passed. She meant well, but she was no good for him. Her intentions weren't his. Ruby wanted him to use his powers, to give in to the sickness. She gave him demon blood. She was bad for him. And so were Dean, Dad and Bobby, because while they were around Sam wouldn't be able to keep his guard up. Self-control would be key if he wanted to stay good. And they couldn't be in danger. If another family member died because of Sam, he _would_ go insane. He wasn't as strong as they were.

Sam threw his newspaper down on the table in the restaurant, angry that there were no signs to follow, and accidentally knocked over the salt-shaker. The salt made a nice little mountain on the edge of the table, and Sam swore to himself as he scooped it up into a pile. He more gently got the newspaper set aside, before opening up his laptop to check for omens in the way that he was best at. Research.

After a while, Sam got bored of looking at worthless articles, and an idea came to his head. He logged into a few websites, pulling out one of his fake credit cards, and bought enough hunting material online to leave a trail straight west. It was sneaky, Sam knew. He had never used that method before, but it would work. With a credit card trail leading in the direction he knew Dean would expect him to take, he could lead his family in a wild goose-chase forever. With that thought, Sam felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't wanted to leave, and he didn't want to put his family through this. Sam of all people knew how it felt to be unable to help his loved ones when they needed him. But they would be better off this way. They had to be.

The morning of day three came with the ringing of the alarm clock, and Sam pulled his face from the pillow tiredly, still expecting to hear the shower or Dean's grumbling. But there was nothing but the siren beside his ear and the throbbing pain in his head. What time was it?

Sam hit the clock with his left hand to no avail, and shifted his weight to shut the alarm off with his right. The movement caused his stomach to pull across the scar on his stomach, and he rediscovered another pain he had forgotten in his sleep, that of his injury. Moaning softly, he pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his painkillers on the nightstand. His hand came in contact with the bottle, knocked it to the ground and eventually regained control of the cylinder when he bent over painfully to reach it from under the bed. With his hand wrapped around the shape firmly, he pulled it back to the bed and sat down again, removing the lid with his thumb. Turning the bottle upside-down, Sam frowned as a measly yellow Advil rolled to his rescue. So _that _was what he had forgotten. To get more painkillers. And antibiotics. And he couldn't just walk into a hospital or free clinic and get a new prescription without setting Dean on his tail. Sighing, Sam dry-swallowed the pill and stood up to a new day. This was going to be a long recovery, wasn't it?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ruby pulled her duplicate hex bag from the inside of her jacket, looking around the back alley behind her to see if she was being watched. When she was satisfied of her privacy, she pulled out a lighter from her jeans pocket, and held it below the hex bag, letting the flames creep up the bag in green. She closed her eyes, concentrating on Sam's presence that she would soon be able to sense once the bag was ruined. Of course, it wouldn't do to let Sam go without her protection, so his bag had included a charm that depended on hers. That was one factor that she hadn't told him about. This charm would be secret. It would work, until hers was burned. That was risky of course, because if Ruby's bag had gotten into the wrong hands it could mean trouble. But it was the lesser of two evils because Sam's safety was more important than the risk, and that wouldn't matter once both hex bags were useless.

The bag fell out of Ruby's hands, smoldering on the concrete, and she smiled as the hole in her consciousness filled with the familiar presence that she had gotten ever-so comfortable with in the past year and a half… Sam. And she could sense him again.

_Watch out baby,_ Ruby stomped on the ashes of the bag as she stepped into the night. _Dean isn't the one who's going to be kicking your ass when we find you._


	22. Chapter 22

Sam dragged himself back into the hotel room, now completely annoyed at having to take so many trips a day up and down the three flights of stairs. He leaned against the door while unlocking it, and let his weight push it open as he turned the handle. Even before locking the door, he pulled of his jacket and button-up, tossing them on the floor by the duffel bags he hadn't bothered to unpack. Then, he threw the deadbolt lazily and made his way into the room. The remote was on the bed, waiting for him to take refuge in the world of horrible actors and mind-numbing fiction. He grabbed it and hit the ON button, flickering the TV to a boring sitcom about some rich kids who fought with each other over dates, money and prestige. Sam wasn't paying attention to the show anyways, and even if he were he would have been too tired to change the channel. He threw the remote back on the spare bed without looking, and it skidded across the smooth bedding to land on the other side of the wall. _Smooth move Sam…_

Grumbling, Sam walked around the edge of the other bed, kneeling sideways so he could fit his arm into the crack between the bed and the wall to reach the remote. After having to lie almost completely on his stomach, Sam managed to grab it. _Stupid remote,_ Sam slid it behind him until it hit the desk on the other side of the room where he could reach it. _I don't even watch TV. That's Dean's thing. Why am I even bothering?_ He put his hands under him, lifting himself up while trying not to disturb his stomach that had been killing him all day without his painkillers. But Sam wasn't going to go back to Bobby's to get them. He could suffer through this.

Rolling onto his back instead, Sam grabbed the side of the bed and pulled himself up. It was an even worse idea, he discovered, because it pretty much forced him to use his abdominal muscles full throttle when they weren't supposed to be able to bend that way yet. Still, he got himself to a stand in one condition, and that was what mattered. He took a few deep breaths, shaking his head to rid himself of the head-rush, and felt the pull on his stitches. Hadn't the doctor told him to take it easy? _So much for that suggestion,_ he huffed as he marched towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When Sam got there, he ignored his reflection with as much self control as he could muster. He dug out his toothbrush from his satchel, and lathered it with toothpaste, still without looking at his reflection. Lately¸ Sam had gotten pretty good at that. The man in the mirror was a different person. The man in the mirror was a hard, cold, angry person with too many bad memories and a weight on his shoulders that he would rather forget. And Sam didn't want to be that man. He knew he was… but he didn't want to be. Looking in the mirror, looking himself in the eye and knowing the truth, made it impossible to hide. It was easy to be the person that he had become since Dean's death, but it wasn't easy to go back. Even since the Trickster had played its little "joke" on Sam that had lasted almost a year but in Dean's reality was only a day. And it had been reversed. No harm no foul, right? Wrong. Because while Dean was only a little confused as to what the problem with his brother was, he was fine. And Sam couldn't tell him what he had become to survive that. Besides, what with only a few months left t in Dean's deal, he had been too distracted anyway. _Lucky me…_

Then the real thing had come, the big shebang, the big cahuna. And it had come too soon. Sam had been prepared to do anything to save Dean from what he knew was coming, because Dean had done anything for Sam. But Dean wouldn't let him, and when the clock struck midnight hell took another prisoner of war. Dean. And Sam was alone for another four months without his brother, knowing that he was the lucky one and still feeling ready to fall off the edge. Well… it was more like jump off the edge. Dean knew about the four months, but not the other six. And Sam wasn't about to tell him. God knows Dean had been through enough. But Dean _had _started to notice the change in Sam, and that was one of the reasons why he had to leave. It wasn't paranoia. It wasn't depression. Sam had changed. And, he noted with disgust, if his vision was right, he would be changing even more into a person that he _definitely_ did not want to be. Ever.

_But so it goes for the psychic kids_, Sam grumbled to himself, _because everyone saw this coming_. Mom had seen it coming. Dad had seen it coming. Dean had saw it coming but didn't want to believe it. Sam knew it was coming. So he had to protect the people who still thought they could stop it. He had to be the one to –

_Whack!_ The deadbolt cracked loudly as the hotel door swung inwardly, and the door was even louder as it bounced off the wall. Sam jumped into ready-position, cursing himself for not having a salt-gun at hand. He pulled a knife out of the bag, knowing that it would be no use, and edged towards the door. Teeth clenched together in concentration, he closed the barrier between him and the enemy, but did a double take when an angry Ruby was facing him instead.

"Hello Sam," Ruby kicked the door shut behind her as it reverberated off the wall, "Just thought I'd drop in." She continued walking towards him with such intensity that he was expecting her to attack, and he took a cautious step back into the main room before she stopped a foot away from him. "We need to talk."

"Ruby," Sam glared back at the woman in front of him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Hasn't it been a while since booty-calls were considered acceptable between us?" He raised an eyebrow sarcastically down at her, and she huffed back in return. "What do you want?"

Pursing her lips, Ruby shook her head angrily. "_What_ _do I want?" _She emphasized each word carefully, clearly furious. "What the hell do you _think_ I want? You ran away!"

"Dean called you, didn't he?"

Ruby huffed. "One of his few smart moments."

"And let me guess, he told you to bring me home?" Sam questioned sarcastically.

All that got was a glare. Sam could practically feel the death stare she was giving him. It was like a mental vibe shouting "What do you think?!"

"This isn't any of your business Ruby," Sam answered calmly. "Don't get involved."

"Don't…"This made Ruby laugh, although her voice was bitter. " Of course! I forgot that nobody cares about what the demon thinks. Just let her go to hell for you," Ruby counted on her fingers, "break any tie with her world whatsoever, practically become your personal sidekick, and then just _dump_ her on the side of the road when you are finished. Perfect!"

"Oh that's interesting…"Sam felt his own temper rise in return. " I don't recall bossing _you_ around like some abandoned, freak-of-nature, circus sideshow to do tricks for you whenever you want to take it out on Lilith or some other demon who" –

"That's was your idea and you know it!" Ruby was actually shouting now, and her voice had that squeaky pitch that most human woman had when they were upset. To people in the halls, it probably sounded like a couple having a breakup.

"Oh really?" Sam unfolded his arms, pulling back his shirt to reveal the cut across his anti-demon tattoo. He looked down at it, and then back up to Ruby. "So possessing me was my idea too then?"

"Saved your ass…"Ruby's eyes seemed too angry to be human, although they weren't black. " Isn't that a good enough reason?" She hesitated, shaking her head in frustration. "I don't get you Sam. You _and_ your family. You think that you are all _so_ innocent about everything, but when someone crosses one of your invisible lines, you call them a monster. Dean is perfect! Dad is a hero! But _Ruby_? No, she's just a demon!" She shook her head angrily. "But you know what Sam…"Ruby's voice dropped in volume, but not intensity. " You weren't in hell like the rest of us. And when push came to shove, Dean and your dad proved that they were the _exact _same as me in the end. And if it came to that, so would you"-

Finally snapping, Sam felt himself throwing Ruby against the wall, his hand at her throat. He didn't have the demon knife, but they both knew that he had the power to exorcise her. "Don't you _dare_ talk about them like that…"Sam shook his head slowly, his eyes glaring daggers into her that didn't seem to hit a mark. " Don't you _dare_."

Ruby glared back, but all the bravado was gone from her face. "You want to kill me?" Her voice didn't seem as brave as it was before, but it made Sam hesitate all the same. "Go ahead. It wont change anything Sam. Because the truth is… none of us are innocent. I am what I am for a reason. So if you want to punish me for that, go ahead."

Sam felt her bare her throat at him, almost in a challenge. He then loosened his grip slightly, which seemed to surprise Ruby a bit. But there was something in her eyes he couldn't lie about.

"…Why are you here?" Sam's voice was a hoarse whisper, and he saw her lower her eyes in what seemed like embarrassment. "Why do you even _care_ about me?"

Ruby sighed. In her face, Sam saw more exhaustion than he had in a long time. She looked back up to him, her eyes soft. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sam pulled his hand off her neck, pushing himself away angrily and stepping back from her, turning his back. She stayed on the wall as if still pinned there, lowering her head to look at the ground. Taking a few deep breaths, Sam ran a hand through his hair, knowing that she could sense his every move. In a way he was used to it, but could almost sense her back now. And that wasn't normal.

"…Sam?" Ruby's voice was quiet, almost pleading.

"Just… just give me a second." He looked up to the wall in front of him, but still kept his back to her. He sighed. "Why… Why did you choose me?"

He heard Ruby huff behind him.

"You saved my life so many times. You went to _hell_ for me…"Finally he turned around, looking down at her with a look of tired confusion. "What I want to know is why."

Ruby still didn't look up. "Don't ask me that. It's not fair."

"I guess not," Sam said slightly forced. He wasn't sure why she wouldn't look at him. Wasn't Ruby supposed to be afraid of no one? "But you didn't answer me."

It was Ruby's turn to cross her arms across her chest, although it seemed more like she was closing him out than tying to intimidate him. "I don't tell sob-stories Sam. That's not who I am."

"Than who _are_ you?" Sam took a step forward as his voice rose, and gestured with his hands in front of her face. He realized that this was pretty much a reenactment of one of their first conversations. Had they gone back to that, or had they always treated each other so cruelly? "I don't read minds Ruby. I need to know _why_."

After a slight hesitancy Ruby's eyes shot black, completing the cycle. But this time, Sam didn't back away. He was prepared. "I'm a demon, Sam." Her voice was calm, controlled. "And I spend my time with humans. I can't even do my job right. I kill other demons because I'm too weak to be like them." Sam frowned, surprised by the amount of untrained bitterness her voice showed. "What do you think _that _says about me Sam?"

It was almost a trick question. What was he supposed to say to that? "Ruby… I'm sorry. I…"

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me Sam Winchester," Ruby shot back angrily before he could finish, pushing away from the wall. "_Don't_. I made the mistake of selling my soul, and I got burned. For the record, it _wasn't _worth being a witch to become this. Dean got pulled after four months, and look now he turned out. In my book, that_ is_ considered a happy ending. If four months on earth means forty years in the pit, imagine seven hundred years in earth time. So excuse me for being a little bitter because you or the angels didn't want _me_ around."

Sam hesitated as her words set in, and took a step back as he tried to think of something, anything, that he could say to that. And his mind drew up a blank. So that would mean… seven thousand years in hell? Seventy thousand? Even one would be too much. Even a minute or a second, would be too much.

Ruby huffed, bringing Sam back to reality. "You know… When Dean came back, I thought that he would at least respect me. You'd think he would understand. Hell…"Ruby shrugged slowly, raising her eyebrows. "It kind of makes you think about things. And then your dad came back too, and considering how much longer he was downstairs I figured that maybe he would give me a chance when he met me. But no… Dean calls me a monster. And your dad? He hates me like the rest of them. The only two souls in existence to be pulled from hell to be human again, and _they can't_ understand _me_."

Too much. It was all too much. A brain could only hold so much before it snapped. Being a hunter, Sam was used to a lot, but it was getting to be too much. Harboring demon blood, his family's sacrifices, hell from two points of view, and his evil destiny served on a platter. Now Ruby too?

Black eyes still watched him stand there unmoving as Ruby nodded slowly. She seemed to be reading his expression in a way that he couldn't. Maybe she thought his shock was denial. And maybe it was. "…And then there's _you _Sam."

At the sound of his name Sam looked up, knowing that he was about to get it bad. And why wouldn't he? He deserved it.

"You'd think that you of _all_ people would understand me," Ruby continued, lowering her hands back down to her sides. "But no. You still consider me protocol. A _last resort_. I mean… When I heard about you Sam, what with being the legitimate leader of a demon army who didn't want it at all, I was interested. I mean… your story alone really sounded like a match made in heaven for me. Or well," Ruby scoffed at that last phrase. "You know what I mean. The first thing I thought was that maybe this boy would be different. A human is offered everything he could ever want as long as he leads some demons around, and he refuses. Kind of reminds me of my own M.O. Honestly, I thought that you would be able to accept someone like me…"Ruby's voice reeked of bitterness, and the black slowly disappeared from her eyes, which made them even harder to meet. "I guess I was wrong."

Sam felt himself getting pushed out of the way as Ruby stepped past him, and he stood there numbly as she made her way to the door. _Wait… _ Sam heard himself talk, but his lips wouldn't move. He was too numb to speak, although his brain was in overdrive. _Ruby…_

"Do you want me to tell them if I found you or not?" Ruby's voice was softer, but still had an injured tone to it as she opened the door.

It was practically impossible to talk, and Sam felt his throat go dry even by looking at her. He realized that, although he didn't want her to leave, he had screwed up. Yet another person hated him now. He did understand.

Ruby must have taken his silence for an answer, because she nodded slowly. "You can tell them yourself. Or not… I don't really care." She moved slowly, but it was only a second in Sam's mind before she had shut the door on him. He was alone, and much too late to realize that that wasn't what he had wanted after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"**_She burns like the sun, and I can't look away__  
__She'll burn our horizons, make no mistake__  
__And I'll hide from the world behind a broken frame__  
__And I'll burn forever, I can't face the shame"_**

**_Sunburn – Muse_**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Suddenly, Sam's mind shot into motion. And everything made sense.

"Ruby!" His legs shot to action, running at the door and through it as he shoved it open. And he left the door open as he ran down the halls, not caring who heard him or who saw. Sam wasn't sure when it happened or why he hadn't realized it until now, but he did really care about Ruby. And he couldn't loose another person he cared about. "Ruby, wait a second!" He rounded the corner that led down the first flight of stairs, and she wasn't there. _Please don't disappear, please don't disappear…_ Sam's mind was just as active as his legs, jumping down the stairs three at a time. Right now, his stomach didn't matter. Screw the stupid stab wound. Screw everything unless he could fix at least one thing in his life. He had to fix this.

As Sam rounded another staircase, he began to get panicky. Where was she? She couldn't just leave him like this. Scared and alone was no way to live. It wasn't just about Ruby. It was about everything that had ever happened in his life. His destiny had been set in motion ten years before he had even been born, and since then his whole family had suffered. And everyone else along the way. Part of the appeal of Ruby, when Sam had depended on her in those four months when he had been alone, was that he couldn't hurt her. He didn't have to worry about her. But, it turned out, he did. He had hurt everyone now.

"Common, Ru" –

_Thump. _Without warning, Sam felt his heart stop in his chest for a second. His breath caught without his intention, and he caught himself on the wall as it happened again. _What the…_

The images came soon after that. People running, screaming, suffering. There was black smoke. And there was Lilith. Sam was there too, just as he had been before.

_Thump._ He heard crashing noises as he fell, but he couldn't feel it. At the bottom of the stairs, he still couldn't feel the ground.

Now Sam was following the others, smiling. He could see John and Dean on the side of the road, bleeding. And he wanted to help them so bad, but the other Sam wouldn't stop to help. He just kept on walking.

_Thump. _Another second without air. It felt like someone was suffocating him and hitting him in the chest at the same time. He couldn't breathe.

_Help…_

_Thump._


	23. Chapter 23

"So…"John looked over to his oldest son, who was quieter than usual as he drove his Impala – once John's Impala – down the highway. He studied Dean's face for a moment, noting that while John had died only three and a half years ago, his son looked a lot more mature than he had back then. It wasn't that he had physically changed, but there was a change in the way he carried himself. It was more like the stature of a man who carried the world on his shoulders. A man who had seen too much evil in the world to believe in a happy ending. A man like himself. Dean had become so much like his father it was almost scary. But even worse, was the fact that John still couldn't read his own son. "Dean I" –

"Why did you tell me then?" Dean glanced at his father in the passenger's seat with worried eyes, clearly in a deep train of thought. "Why not _before_ you were going to die?"

John frowned, confused as to what had triggered this. "Why didn't I tell you… _what_?"

Dean sighed deeply, as if he had been keeping his breath penned up for a long time. "About Sam. About saving him or killing him. How come you didn't tell me until you were on your freaking _deathbed_?"

"I… didn't _want_ to have to tell you, Dean. I put too much on your shoulders anyways, your whole life. I never even raised Sam. That was your job because you took it upon yourself. I couldn't do that to you."

Shaking his head, Dean seemed to dismiss that idea. His jaw tightened, clearly upset. "But you did. I not only had to deal with the fact that my father went to hell for me, but that he wanted me to kill my own brother if he ever" –

"I never _wanted_ that Dean."

"And not only did you do that to _me_ dad," Dean ignored his father's interruption; glaring at him with such intensity that John could have been looking into a mirror. "But you did that to _Sam_. God, the kid was freaking messed up as it is. He _still _caries that around with him."

John hesitated, knowing that every word was true. The puzzle of his sons' lives was starting to fall into place. Now he understood the barrier that had been between him and his sons. "Dean…"He picked his words carefully, knowing that they were walking a tight line. " You need to understand me here, okay? You and Sam are _both_ my sons, and I love you_ both._ You forget that the news wasn't exactly great for me either. You have carried this for years, but I've been carrying it since Sam was too young to talk. I raised you both as equals Dean, because I trusted you both. Sam was my son no matter what. Why do you think I wanted you to take care of him?" Dean looked as if he was about to reply, but John pressed on, knowing that once he got Dean going he wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise. "It wasn't because I didn't trust him or anything. I was always harder on Sam because I was preparing him for the world that he would have to see someday. I knew that Sam would have to face things that most people never would, and I wanted him to have the strength to push through. And I made _you_ the adult because I knew that what _I_ was doing would be _your_ job someday Dean. That fugly bastard that killed Mary may have destroyed our home and our life, but it wasn't about to take Sam with it."

"If you were so sure…"Dean's voice was a little quieter because he was actually listening, but it still had an edge to it. " If you were so sure that Sam wasn't going to turn than why did you tell me what you did?"

John looked away from his son, out into the dark night outside. "Dean… it's also my job to take care of you. And if, god forbid, Sam _should_ ever become someone else, I didn't want to have you caught in the crossfire too. I couldn't bear to loose both my sons. I still can't Dean."

Dean kept his eyes on the road, his face in a deep scowl. "Sam's not going to change… He's not. He's always going to be our Sam."

John looked away from the rain-splattered windows, turning his face to Dean with a sigh. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and when Dean did look at him his face was solemn. "Dean…I want that too. I _do_. I know Sam and I have our differences, but he is my son and I care about him. You have to know that Dean. _Sam_ has to know that."

Dean took a few deep breaths, looking down, and brought his gaze back to the road. John knew that he was still struggling with something.

"Son, why are you asking me this? Now, of all times?" He hesitated.

"I… I think that's why he left."

John was struck for a moment, unsure what to say. "What? Did Sam say something to you?"

Dean paused, biting his lip. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"Look dad…"Dean cleared his throat, frowning. " I'm still pissed about how things went down, but for the record Sam wasn't angry with _you_. He basically took on the attitude that whatever happens, happens, and that we all need to take this responsibly. I know it scared him, but none of us could take it back once the cat was out of the bag."

John listened carefully, unsure why Dean was telling him this. "But what does that have to do with" –

"Just _listen_, okay?" Dean's voice was pleading. John was quiet, and Dean took that as an agreement to keep going. "Sam isn't stupid. He knows that it isn't your fault if he goes darkside. But when you, uh… died, it wasn't exactly easy on him either. It's not exactly secret of the year that you guys fight a lot, and he was pretty upset that he didn't get to clear things. I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but he actually told me that you died thinking he hated you."

_Oh…_ Now things were _really_ starting to make a hell of a lot of sense. Sam didn't hate John, but he thought that John hated _him_. Sam had left because he was afraid that John would… would do what? "I didn't hate him…"John's voice was edgy, now starting to match Dean's. " I didn't."

"That's what I said," Dean agreed, giving John a sympathetic look. He seemed to read John's mind. "And in your defense, I haven't been the best brother either."

"You always took care of Sammy," John defended his son honestly. " You always looked out for him. You… you even sold your soul for" –

"That doesn't mean _anything_ dad," Dean interrupted angrily, unaware that he was sending a low-blow John's way too. After a few seconds, he gave his dad another apologetic look. "I… I didn't mean it like that dad. It's not like I'm not thankful for what you did or anything. I mean… I know what you went through… in the pit… and I know I don't deserve it. But I spent so long wondering if you would have just been better off leaving me for dead."

John shook his head forcefully, unable to believe what he was thinking. "Dean… you were worth it. Of course you were. You're my son" –

"But it killed me." Dean hesitated for a while, his jaw tensing to keep himself under control. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, wherever you were. It was my fault and we both knew that. And then… Then I go and do the same thing to Sammy."

John waited for Dean to continue, but he didn't. "Dean…"He urged softly. " I never wanted you to suffer for that, okay? And I never wanted you to make the deal either" –

"But I _did_." Dean's voice broke on the last word, and John's heart fell another few notches. He hadn't seen his son cry outside of a serious injury since he was what… seven? "I _did_ make the deal," Dean continued, clenching the steering wheel angrily. "I didn't make the deal for Sam, I made it for _me_, because I couldn't live with him dead…"Dean took a deep breath, eyes still on the road. " And you didn't make the deal for me either. You made it for yourself."

Truly, John was angry to hear this. But he knew it was true. It was so, so true. And he didn't know what to say as Dean finally pulled onto the side of the road, leaving the car to idle as headlights streaked by the windows every few seconds. The people in those cars would have no clue what Dean and John were going through, but that only made John feel more alone.

"But I was worse…"Dean didn't seem to be able to stop the flow of honesty now. It was as if he had decided to come clean. "Dammit, I was so much worse than you dad. Because after all I went through after you died, I should have known what it would have done to Sam. And I still did it anyways."

"Dean"-

"That's why…"Dean's voice broke again louder this time, and John's frown deepened. " I wasn't really thinking about what Sam would go through when I died, because I was just worried about what was going to happen to me. But…"

John waited again. "But…?" He prompted softly, letting Dean lead him into a mood just as depressing.

"It _was_ worse dad. He lost everybody. I mean… We both lost you and mom, and he lost Jessica. She wasn't the last either. And then there was the secret and the deal and the demon blood… And then I just left him alone. And I didn't think it would be that bad, but it was. I thought he could take it. Sam had never gotten angry with me over what I did after you died, although let's just say I wasn't exactly in a healthy state of mind."

It hurt to hear Dean talk about himself like that, and to talk about Sam like that. His sons were his life, and to hear that they had suffered so much was a complete heartbreak for him.

"Sam was kind of the same when I died, but it was worse because he was alone. He just changed so much. Started drinking, gambling, sleeping with" –

Dean caught himself at the last second, shaking his head angrily. "Sorry," he mumbled in a huffed apology. "You don't need to know that part."

John nodded understandably, and raised his eyebrows for Dean to continue. "Dean… none of that is your fault," he explained softly. "Sam had to make his own choices."

"Yeah, I know." Dean's voice was rough, and he looked back to the rainy window with a sigh. "I knew it wouldn't be easy dad, but I never thought it would get that bad. He put up so many walls, and he still wont take them down for anyone ever. He started lying, and hiding things. I guess it's understandable with what he went through, but he didn't have to lie to _me_. But still… it's my fault."

"Dean…"John shook his head, not understanding. " How is it your fault?"

"Yeah… It is. When I found out that he was exorcizing demons using his freaking psychic stuff… I snapped. I just kept hearing your voice in my head, what you said to me, and I took it out on Sam. I said…"

John felt himself tense up as he watched a tear trickle down his son's cheek, and he knew that he couldn't stop it. He looked down to his hands, folded in his lap, and he bit his lip.

"I said…"Dean hesitated again, his face now angry. "I said that if I didn't know him, I would hunt him. And… And that other hunters would too. I even hit him a few times. I-I didn't mean any of it, but I was just so damn angry that he didn't tell me…"Dean looked away from his father, letting loose a quiet sob. " You should have seen his face. He took the hits like nothing dad, as if he didn't care. But when I said… it…"Jaw tensing again, Dean's face was that of someone forcing back sobs. "No matter what I do he's never going to forgive me for this one. Even if he says he will, he wont. It's _my_ fault he left dad, not yours. And… And I'm sorry I took your son away from you, because even when we get him back there wont be any way to erase what I've done."


	24. Chapter 24

"**Somebody turn the lights on,  
Somebody tell me what's wrong,  
I'd be lying if I told you,  
Losing you was something I could handle,  
Somebody turn the lights on,  
Somebody tell me how long,  
All this darkness will surround you,  
'Cuz I'm burning for you,  
Burning like a candle."**

**- Candle (Sick and Tired) – White Tie Affair**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ruby stormed away from Sam's desperate voice, fuming. Screw Sam and his lame excuses. Screw humans and their ignorance. Screw… Screw Ruby. Life was just a joke. Even when you were dead like her.

When Sam's voice stopped and was replaced with the sound of something falling down the stairs, Ruby stopped dead in her tracks. Was this a prank? Was Sam throwing his boots around to try and scare her into coming back? Ruby tried to walk away, but something wasn't right. She _knew_ that something wasn't right.

Something was wrong... but in the end, did it really matter? Ruby didn't really need Sam Winchester, did she? Did she really care?

_Damn..._ Ruby felt herself turning around, although she wanted to keep walking. She had gotten soft, weak. But then again, she noted with bitterness, she had always been weak. No use giving up now.

Now that she had made her decision, Ruby's legs now moved at top spead as she hurried up a flight and a half of stairs. She was ready to kick Sam's ass if that meant getting him to understand. But she coudldn't give up on him now. She was ready to do whatever it took, but she wasn't ready for what she saw when she reached the next flight. Right in front of her, in the middle of another seizure, was Sam. Her Sam.

"…Whoa, Sam…"Ruby knelt down at his side, putting a hand on his chest to hold him down, another feeling along his neck for a pulse. He didn't seem as out of it as before, but he still swatted her hand away. "Common Sam, it's me." Ruby talked as soothingly as she could muster, glad that Dean and John wouldn't be here to see this moment of sincerity.

"No…"Sam jerked away again, and Ruby frowned at how hard it seemed to be for him to talk. His breathing was so fast it was practically hyperventilation, meaning that his heart rate wasn't far behind. "Help 'em… stop. No…"

"It's okay Sam," Ruby struggled to move him so that she was sitting against the wall and his head rested on her knees, her hand circling comfortingly under his collarbone. She wasn't that good with humans – not with comforting them anyways – but from the select times that Sam had ever let her in he had reacted to physical contact. It was a support thing, she figured."It's okay… I'm here. You're okay…"

Was his breathing getting faster? Ruby swore inwardly, forgetting that he could _actually _be hyperventilating. If this continued, he would pass out. "Dammit Sam, if you die I'm going to kill you."

As she should have expected, her threats clearly weren't helping. _Okay… different approach._ "Sam… You gotta breathe with me, okay? It will be alright. Just calm down." There wasn't much of a response, but Ruby felt a hand tightening on the fabric of her jeans by the knee. She pulled her hand of his chest, wondering if that was making things worse.

Sam's hair was matted with sweat, his face pale. If he didn't calm down soon, Ruby realized she would _have_ to possess him. "Sam…Breathe with me here." This wasn't normal for Ruby. She had never helped someone with this kind of thing before. Not even with Sam. It was more like migranes from his exorcisms, or gunshot wounds or something like that. Hell, Ruby considered herself pretty much responsible for the fact that Sam was _not_ an alchololic at this point, considering the path he had been on when she had found him. But for the most part, Sam was really good of taking care of himself and toughing it out. Ruby had helped him out before, but never had she dealt with a panic attack. And even with the seizure last time, he hadn't freaked out about it. _Maybe because he wasn't awake…_

Ruby knew she had to possess him, but she couldn't. Maybe it was because Sam had protested so strongly against it. She didn't know what his problem was, considering why she did it and the fact that she had let him go a few minutes after, but he hated the idea. And that shouldn't have stopped Ruby. She shouldn't have cared. But she did.

Without really thinking about it, Ruby realized that she had slowed her own breathing down, almost like a model for Sam, and was surprised when Sam's other hand felt above his head to link with hers. It was understandable, wanting to hold on to something during a panic attack, but it was weird. Ruby had never held hands with Sam. She hadn't held hands with _anyone_. Not even as a human and a witch. Ruby _did not _hold hands. Only lovey-dovey couples did that. And her and Sam weren't even a couple, let alone showing public displays of affection. But here she was, squeezing Sam's fingers in response as his breathing finally started to slow.

"There we go…"Ruby's voice was softer than she usually dared letting it be, but she didn't mind because it seemed to be working. She could kick Sam's ass later, but for now she had to try and act more like... well... a human.

Sam seemed to be calming down, and she could sense his breathing coming down to more of a normal pace. " Just take deep breaths Sam. It's okay. Just like that. It's okay."

After Sam's breathing was safe enough, Ruby shook her head at herself and pulled her hand free from his, pushing his hair back from his forehead. His eyes moved across the ceiling, clearly still dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and it took a few seconds before he responded to her touch. His eyes shot to hers. "Th… Thank…"

"Don't talk…"Ruby silenced him with a look, and waited a few seconds for his eyes to focus further. Only then did she help him to his feet, pulling his arm over her shoulder to help with the long haul upstairs.

Sam's head hung low as he let himself be ushered up the stairs, limping slightly as he did so, and Ruby let a little more of his weight rest on her shoulders. If nothing else, being a demon did have perks like strength. That at least she was thankful for, because no human woman of her size could hold most of Sam's 6'4 weight by herself. Sam seemed to notice this too, and he huffed. "Thanks…" he muttered, still sounding out of breath.

Ruby nodded in reply, but didn't' say anything else as she lead him to the farthest room down the hall, and through the door that had been left open. Once there, she shut the door with a gentle kick behind her, and sat down on the bed with Sam. She shrugged Sam's arm of her shoulders, letting him fall back on the bed with his legs hanging off the edge.

Sam sighed, sounding a little better but completely tired. Despite his Winchester pride, he didn't even object as she pulled off his boots and threw them in the corner. In any other situation than this, Ruby would have been pissed at herself for sinking so low. But when she thought about it... there was no one to impress. Demons hated Ruby. Humans hated Ruby. Ruby hated Ruby. But then there was Sam. He at least respected her, maybe even liked her on his good days. So what if she had to help him take off his boots? He was all she had left.

"What did you see?" Ruby sat down beside Sam, wondering how long it would take him to talk. Remembering her own emotions and experiences of being human was one thing, but she was completely clueless about things that she had never experienced herself.

A pause. "Same as before…"Sam took another breath. " Just a bit longer."

When Ruby had possessed Sam last time, she had seen enough of the vision to know it went. And how freaked out he was. "Anything else?"

Closing his eyes, Sam shook his head. "No… Same thing. Just me. And everybody else."

Ruby nodded, knowing that he was too tired to lie. But he also seemed really upset about something too. "Sam… you know it isn't going to happen, right?"

There was no answer. Sam's eyes were still closed, and Ruby would have believed that he was asleep if not for the look of pain on his face. Well if he didn't want to talk to her, than fine.

"Here," Ruby shook Sam gently until he looked at her. "Get up."

Moaning, Sam shook his head. But he still let her help him to a sitting position anyways. His shoulders slumped forwards tiredly, and he had to lift his head to look up at her. "What?"

"We have to get this off," Ruby gestured to his button-up, and he raised an eyebrow implicatively. "Don't even start with the jokes Sam," she huffed at his expression. "I didn't mean it like _that_."

"Sure…"Sam sighed sarcastically, although he let her help him pull off the shirt. " You didn't mean it like that… I've heard that one before."

Ruby sighed as she threw the shirt on the floor. " You know I've never bothered with excuses. If I wanted your clothes of for _that_ reason, I would just tell you."

This made Sam laugh, and he gave her a genuine half-smile. "Okay… That is true." He undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor, but shook his head at Ruby when she raised her eyebrows. "But I don't care how good of intentions you have… I'm loosing the belt but the pants are still staying on."

A few minutes later, Ruby was shutting the curtains in the main room. She had checked Sam over for bruises, and found a nasty one across his left shoulder. His right knee wasn't too hot either, along with his old stab wound. But other than that, Sam was fine. He at fallen asleep the second he was under the covers, and it was kind of weird seeing this side of Sam again. She had never really admitted it to herself (let alone Sam), but it felt good to be needed. She thought she was past depending on emotions like this, but maybe a little weakness was okay every once in a while.

Sending another look back to Sam to make sure he was asleep, Ruby pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans on the floor – she had finally convinced him that she would behave so he could take them off and sleep in his t-shirt and boxers – and walked out of the hotel room, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the wall tiredly, and flipped through the contacts until Dean's name came up, then she hit the CALL button. It rang only once before Dean answered, as if he had been waiting for a call.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded urgent, and even a bit hoarse. "Sam, you okay?"

"Relax short-bus," Ruby greeted on the other end of the phone. "It's only me."

There was hesitancy, and she thought she heard Dean swear on the other end. "…Ruby. Did you find Sam?"

"Yeah, I found him. He's okay."

Dean sighed loudly on the other end of the line, sounding relieved. "Finally! God, that kid had us scared shitless. How did you find him?"

"I have my ways," Ruby shrugged. Dean didn't' really need to know about the trick hex-bag.

Dean seemed just about to comment on her secrecy, but then he seemed to realize something. "So why are you using Sam's phone?"

"He's asleep and I wasn't going to wake him up to ask for your number," Ruby explained half-heartedly, waiting for Dean to call her a liar. But, to her surprise, he didn't.

"Oh… Why is he asleep? Is he okay?"

"He is now," Ruby explained into the phone slowly, wondering if Dean and John would be upset with her. "He had another vision shortly after I found him. He's kind of bruised up, but he'll survive."

Dean swore again, and Ruby heard someone on the other end asking what was wrong. "Was it as bad as last time?"

Ruby wasn't really sure what to say to that. "Yes and no…"

"What do you mean 'Yes _and_ no'? He's okay, isn't he?"

Ruby sighed. She so _did not_ need this right now. "Yeah he's fine. The seizure wasn't nearly as bad. I think he's getting immune or something. And I didn't have to possess him to keep his heart from stopping. But…"

"_But…_?" Dean's voice went up a notch in hysteria.

"Well he fell down a flight of stairs, and I found him in the middle of a panic attack."

"What!?" –

"I managed to get him calmed down though," Ruby interrupted before Dean could get _really_ angry. "Got him upstairs and put him to bed. I figured that it would be better to let him sleep him off than to drag him over to Bobby's this second…."She let the sentence drag off, hinting that she would have to watch Sam for now.  
Dean seemed to be uncomfortable with someone else looking after his brother, but he sighed. "How is he?"

"His shoulder his a nice shade of blue and when he wakes up his knee will need some ice." Ruby winced. "But he'll be fine."

"And uh…"Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. " Did he tell you what the vision was about?"

Ruby laughed dryly. "Don't worry Dean, I already know all about it. Your secret is safe with me."

"Yeah, 'cause that makes me feel _so_ much better…"Dean grumbled, making Ruby smile. " Don't tell me he _told _you?"

"No, Dean… He didn't tell me. I'm that makes you happy. I remembered from when I had to possess him," Ruby explained. "He didn't_ have_ to tell me."

Dean's voice was cold. "And _this_ time?"

Ruby frowned at Dean's urgency. Sometimes, she thought, it would be so much easier for Sam if his family were a _little_ more understanding. "When I asked, he said that it was the same as last time."

"Oh…"Dean seemed to take that as bad news and good news at the same time. " So… panic attack huh?" He sounded worried.

"Yeah…"Ruby was just about to admit that it had scared her, but she decided against it. First of all, she didn't like Dean knowing what she was thinking. And second of all, she knew that he was already worried sick as it was. He didn't need the details. "So Dean" –

The phone made a static noise, and all of a sudden John's voice was on the other end. "Ruby," his voice was harsh, making Dean's seem polite in comparison. "Where's Sam?!"

"John," Ruby greeted, trying to be semi-polite. She wasn't exactly in John's good-books lately. "Look, I just gave Dean the story, so you can ask him. I'm kind of using up the minutes on Sam's phone right now so keep it quick. How far are you from Bobby's?"

"A day and a half's drive away," John answered quickly, as if he had been keeping count. "Why?"

"Well Sam's pretty out of it. I'm going to let him sleep all day and I wont know how he's going to be until he wakes up."

"What happened to him?" John asked quickly, his voice accusatory.

" Don't worry, he's going to be fine." Ruby sighed, wondering how many times she would have to tell this story. "Just tired. Like I said, he needs to sleep right now. We're only a day's drive from Bobby's, although I know for a fact that we're in the _opposite_ direction as you are. Sam went east, not west. He probably lead a fake credit card trail or something… Anyhow, I'll take him back to Bobby's, considering that I'm closer, and meet you there in a day or so."

John hesitated, sighing. "I don't know about that…"

There were more voices on the other end in protest that Ruby recognized as Dean and Bobby, and then John was back on the line. "Ah, Fine," He grumbled, clearly unsatisfied. "When can you get him here?"

"I think I can take him up tomorrow if he's up to it. If you start driving right now you can beat me to Bobby's and get anything you might need."

There was another sigh, this one deeper. "Alright… But you better damn well take care of my son."

Ruby rolled her eyes at this. "Don't worry John, I've been taking care of Sam for a while now."

John didn't seem to like this very much, because the line went dead soon after. Ruby smiled, returning to the room, and setting Sam's phone on the counter. _Winchester men and their damn pride. _She plopped down in a comfy chair, looking around the room tiredly. In habit, she gave Sam another glace, and couldn't help noting how calm he looked while he slept. Her eyes traced in a moment his muscular arms, moving up to his jawbone and his messy hair. Okay… Ruby let her smile stay on for a while. So maybe all Winchesters weren't _that_ bad…


	25. Chapter 25

The sun coming in through the windows was a wakeup call for Sam, and he pulled himself groggily awake. Sitting up without thinking, he didn't notice his stitches, shoulder or knee. Not over the pounding in his head anyways. Squinting out the light as not to make his headache worse, it took a while for him to make out Ruby's silhouette as she sat in chair with one leg crossed over the other and the curtain in her hand. If he weren't so relieved to see her there, he would have been annoyed at her waking him up.

"So sleeping beauty finally woke up, did she?" Ruby's lip rose in a smirk, but lowered again when she saw Sam's confused and pain-stricken face. Her expression softened slightly. "How bad is it?"

Ruby didn't even have to specify what "it" was, because she knew well enough by now that anything involving Sam's powers was a recipe for one hell of a headache. Not that Sam didn't mind, what with all the people he saved exorcising demons, but it was still something that took a long time to get used to. Even after four months, Sam barely made it out without a migraine because he was getting used to it. But his visions before hadn't exactly been fun, and _now_ they were ten times the intensity.

"Remember my first demon?"

Nodding, Ruby have him a sympathetic look. Sam's first attempt at exorcising a demon gave him a headache that lasted three days. And that was _after_ he woke up. "That bad, huh?"

"If it wasn't for the flight of stairs under my feet this time," Sam grumbled sleepily "It would have been a tie. Now I'm not so sure."

Ruby seemed relatively calm as she continued. "Well it wasn't as bad as last time though."

Sam raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "Says _who_?"

"Well your heart didn't stop, for one. Not as long as in the hospital at least. And I didn't have to possess you either," Ruby said. "I think your body is starting to get used to it."

Slowly enough as to not disturb his head, Sam nodded thoughtfully. He had been considering a thought in his head for a few days, but he had been too afraid to bring it up before. But this was probably the best time, if ever. "Do you think that the visions have anything to do with… what happened in the hospital?"

"You mean the demon blood?"

Sam hadn't wanted to be the one to say it, but it was almost worse hearing it thrown out so casually by Ruby. There was demon blood in his system. Demon Blood. The thought alone was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. It was like the moment when he found out all over again, and the grin on Azazel's face was just replaced by the calm look on Ruby's. He could almost feel his heart thudding, the blood pumping through his veins, feel the sick murderous toxin moving through his body and infecting his organs. But everyone could sense their own heartbeat, right? Maybe he was just being paranoid. Pulling at the neckline of his shirt a little bit, Sam fought the feeling that he was being strangled.

Oblivious to his paranoia, Ruby continued. "I've been thinking about it… and it's a possibility. Demon blood gave you the powers in the first place, so it's not a stretch to imagine that it could make them stronger too. This was a pretty good idea if I do say so myself. At this rate, you will be strong enough to take on Lilith faster than we planned. We could even keep going, just incase it wears off. Better safe than sorry."

Sam wasn't paranoid this time. He could _feel_ his heartbeat getting faster with anger. _Good idea?!_ _Better safe than sorry?! _Sam wasn't strangling anymore. Ruby was the one he was going to strangle. How the _hell_ did she justify saying that to him?! No it wasn't a good freaking idea! It was sick! Why the hell would he want to –

His mind did a standstill as more of Ruby's words finally hit his sluggish brain. _"Strong enough to take on Lilith faster than we planned." _ Lilith had to go down, that much was certain. And Sam was the only one who could do it. Lilith, who through the crossroads demon had bought Dean and John's souls and abused them for decades. Lilith, who had killed Dean in laugher. Lilith, who possessed innocent little girls why she murdered their families. Who wanted Sam's head on a platter. Who was breaking the seals one by one so she could release hell on the world. And Sam could kill her at the cost of a few extra headaches and some visions. What if…

_No, no, no!_ Dean's voice played in his head, angry at Sam for even considering it. _That's what started this whole freaking mess in the first place Sam! You know better!_

And he did know better.

Sam didn't know why Dean's voice played in his head, and not his own. But in a sense, Dean had taught him everything he knew, ever since his childhood. What to do, and what not to do. _"Don't walk in the middle of the street. Don't eat yellow snow. Don't take demon blood." _Of course Dean would say that.

"Look…"Sam cleared his throat, using every once of self-control to not loose his temper. " That's not an option, okay?"

"But Sam, just hear me out here" –

"Drop it Ruby." Sam's voice as hard as he interrupted her. "This isn't negotiable."

Ruby met his eyes for a few seconds, judging his reaction, before sighing. "Alright," She replied through clenched teeth. "I'm dropping it. Are you happy now."

"Very."

Ruby sighed again, but this time it was heavy. "Look… Let's start this again. Forget I said anything, okay?"

Sam didn't reply, knowing that if he opened his mouth he would regret what words came out of it.

"Okay…"Ruby seemed to know what he was doing, and stood up slowly. " I'm going to go get you some breakfast from the restaurant down the street. Just stay here, and I'll be back."

Any other time, Sam would have been surprised to see Ruby giving him space in this way. She usually either tried to make him talk about it, or just flat out ignored him. Now she was giving him space, which was good. But he was still too pissed to say anything to her until she had left. Just to make sure, Sam listened to the door slam shut before he moved. With full intention of making a run for it, Sam stood up quickly – and ignored the head rush from doing so – and hurried to his duffel so he could change into something.

Unzipping the bag, Sam frowned. Where were his clothes? He ruffled though his things some more because he was unable to believe that his clothes could be _missing_. He couldn't _loose_ his clothes! He barely owned anything at all! Missing! Sam stopped fidgeting when realized that it was true. All his jeans and button-ups were gone. He fumbled for another minute. The car keys were missing too.

_Ruby… _ Sam glowered again, his fists tightening on the bag. He couldn't believe that she would do this! Now he couldn't leave – unless he wanted to walk around town in his boxers and a t-shirt – without waiting for Ruby to come back. She must have known he would try and leave without her. Sam had to give her props for knowing him and being prepared like this, but it was still downright annoying. And embarrassing! What the hell was he supposed to do until Ruby returned and revealed the location of his pants? Sit there like a stiff?

Immediately cold without all his layers, Sam grumbled as he crawled back under the covers to keep himself warm. He sat up, pulling the covers to his chin, and turned the TV on with a glower. Ruby was going to pay for this…


	26. Chapter 26

**Note to the reader:**

**Okay first of all, I want to give you all humongous thanks for reading, reviewing, and for staying with me for so long. Every hit, viewer, and review that I see on my stories is like a little piece of magic…. Wow I know that sounds really cheesy, but it's true.**

I'm soooo sorry that I took so long to post another chapter. I've had some health problems lately, but now I am back on that horse and ready to write! I hope you enjoy!

**NOTE TO READER:**

**This is way off canon so far, but I may incorporate some things back into the story to make it follow canon a little bit more.**

**But in this story, Ruby is NOT evil, and Sam had NOT been drinking her blood. I can't make that work in this story, and I wont. Got it? Good.**

Since I was gone so long, I wanted you guys to have a nice long chapter! Now enjoy the show… XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John's hands on the steering wheel were so tight that his knuckles were turning white, and his arms were stiff and rigid in front of him. There was a cassette tape in the player, but he couldn't pick up the tune of the songs that were playing. They had been his for years, and he couldn't even tell what was playing.

Had John been gone that long? Had John been in hell long enough that he could forget the sweet music of Metallica or AC/DC? This car was even his. Well… it _had_ been his. He had owned it since he was twenty-three years old, and had taught his sons to drive with it. And now… now he couldn't even take comfort in the feel of the leather seats, the smooth interior around them.

"Dad?" John became vaguely aware of his son's voice beside him, and he reached to his right to turn down the music that he wasn't even listening to anyways.

John glanced in Dean's general direction to let him know that he had heard. "Yeah?"

"I was just wondering… " Dean cleared his throat, which usually meant that he was uncomfortable. " Why are you going along with this?"

John actually looked at Dean this time. "Going along with _what_?"

Dean hesitated for a second, as if trying to find the right words. He obviously knew that his father's temper matched his own. "Sam's in a car with a demon … injured… and we are driving in the opposite direction."

Grumbling a little, John turned his eyes back to the road. "Don't remind me."

"Hell, I told you to agree to it in the first place." Dean's voice became a little louder when he realized that his father wasn't looking at him anymore. "But I didn't really think that you would agree. It's just not something you would do, you know? I kind of expected you to rip her head off for suggesting it."

"Well maybe I've changed, huh?" John's voice rose too, but his was a lot less gentle. "I mean… you and Sam are so dammed different now, you don't think I could change a little too?"

"Dammit dad, I didn't mean it like that" –

"You are the ones who wanted me to give her a chance in the first place, and now you're going to judge me for it? What, are you ashamed that I'm not bossing you around anymore?"

Dean didn't say anything for a long time, and eventually John had to turn to look at him. Dean was watching his father with a combination of confusion and pity. "Dad…"Dean cleared his throat again. " I'm not judging you. We've all changed. It would be stupid for me to think that you wouldn't change too."

John sighed a little, degrading his glare. He looked to the road again. "Than why did you ask?"

"Because…"Dean paused. " I'm proud of you. I know how hard it was for you to put your trust in a demon."

"Really? And why is that?" John's interest peaked; he waited for Dean to continue. Even though this was starting to sound like a chick-flick speech in the making, he was touched by the sentiment.

Dean took a deep breath, and John sensed that he had something he needed go get off his chest. "When I was a kid, your word was law. Hell, I never questioned you up until the day you died. I wanted to be just like you… And I became just like you. Whatever you believed in, I believed in…"There was a moment of silence, and then Dean continued. "But not anymore."

Okay…chick-flick moment officially over. John huffed. "Thanks a bunch son. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Actually, yeah. It is." John sensed his son force a smile on his face. "Dad… We were right about a lot of things. Considering the circumstances I think you did right by us. What with Sam being such a humanitarian and all, somebody had to keep this family in line. But we weren't right about everything. I see that now…"

"What are you getting at?" John couldn't help but let the frustration in his voice show. "That I made mistakes? What the hell kind of pep-talk is this?"

"I'm still not comfortable with Ruby being near my brother." Dean didn't answer John's question, and he was looking out the side-window into the darkness outside. "But I can handle it now. And it took me a long time to be able to do that. And then you just… You just _agree_ to let her do this. Considering how we are so much alike and all, I know how hard it must have been. And I just wanted to let you know that I'm, you know…"

"Proud?" John finished the sentence for Dean, a hint of a smile playing up his features. Sometimes, he just wanted to smack Dean ten ways from Sunday, but other times he wanted to hug him. Right now was kind of a combination of the both. Dean was still speaking in riddles but John could tell where he was coming from. Truth was, that John had been doing a lot of thinking since he got back from hell. The things he had seen and the new things that he was still seeing were making him rethink his entire outlook on life. Dean was right… He had changed. John Winchester had finally softened up enough to set down his pride for a few minutes. It was a personal triumph, but one that his son had caught onto because Dean had had to go through the same thing.

"Yeah… I guess that's a word I could use." Dean's smile turned into a smirk, and he nodded. John couldn't help smiling too, just at the sight of him. He hadn't seen Dean smile like that in such a long time.

Suddenly Dean's head turned to the road, just as the car lights flickered and it began to slow down. "What the" –

"Oh not now…"Dean was looking out into the night with recognition in his eyes, and John looked to him in confusion.

"What? Who the hell is that?" John tried to swerve the car, moving the steering wheel while trying both the gas and the break separately. Nothing worked.

The car came to a rolling stop in front of a man with dark messy hair and a beige trench coat worn loosely over a suit. John immediately reached towards the gun in his waistband, but Dean was already opening the car door beside him. "That wont do anything," Dean gave his dad an understanding look, before jumping carelessly out of the car without a weapon. John hesitated before following.

"Cass," Dean didn't show the least bit of caution as he walked towards the man, and stood but a foot away from him. "What is it? You look like crap."

"Hello Dean," The man gave Dean a polite look of greeting, although he did not smile. He stood straight and tall, and had a slightly opposing presence although he had barely moved since they first saw him. With a calm but expectant look, he turned his head towards John, who was standing by the half-open driver's door of his car with apprehension. "John." The man's face was cold and his eyes soul-searching, but not in the same way that a demon's might be. John noticed that there were scratches on his face, and that there was a bloodstain on the right side of his shirt. "We finally meet."

John looked to his son for a second, who was standing beside this strange man with ease. Hadn't John taught him anything? Dean should be keeping his guard up around demons!

"Dad…"Dean noticed his father's caution, and looked from John to the strange man. " This is Cass."

John hesitated. _What am I missing here?_ "…_Cass_?"

Cass, or whoever he really was, gave a little smile. He seemed to find this funny, for some reason. "My name is Castiel."

"Castiel?" John thought for a moment, and when he remembered the name he laughed. "Castiel the angel? _That_ Castiel?"

Castiel's smile had faded. He didn't seem to find the speculation in John's voice funny. "Yes. I am an angel of the Lord."

"Is that so?" John took a few steps forewords, giving the man a doubtful once-over. No… He wasn't an angel. This was just some poor possessed son of a gun who had somehow convinced Dean that he was something he wasn't. "And why should I believe you?"

Dean was looking at John with wide eyes, shaking his head from side to side a fraction. What the hell was he afraid of? "Dad…"He was mouthing out the words silently. " Don't…"

Castiel noticed this, and gave Dean a look that was a combination between appreciation and understanding. He held out a graceful hand to silence Dean, and Dean actually shut up. A few carefully placed footsteps took him towards John, but he stopped when the impact of the blast from a salt-gun hit him in the chest.

"Dad!" Dean jumped to the side, staring at his father as if he had just done something awful.

The corner's of Castiel's mouth had turned down in a frown, but he was otherwise unchanged. He glared at John's hand and the sawed-off shotgun that it held, before looking down at his chest. There were little shallow bullet holes from the salt-shells, but they didn't seem to affect him at all. After a minute, a white light seemed to come from inside the wounds, and little pieces of salt fell to the ground as they healed.

John's eyes widened in shock. Not only were the salt-rounds useless, but Castiel had just _healed_ his body. John had never seen a demon that could do that. No Demon _could_ do that. He looked up to Castiel, his mouth open slightly as the arm holding the gun fell limply at his side. "You… You're an… Oh my go" –

"I wouldn't use that phrase if I were you," Castiel looked up from his freshly healed body. "Unless you are praying."

"You're an … an angel?" John wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. "You're an angel."

"I think we've established that," Castiel replied dryly. If John didn't know any better, he would have sworn that an angel was using sarcasm on him. A freaking angel!

John took another step forwards, although this time he was just taking the man in. Castiel didn't look any different than any other poor bloke out there who wore a suit. Maybe he was just coming to them in a form humans were comfortable around with.

John still couldn't wrap his head around this. An angel was here, in front of him. They were _real_. Mary had been right all along! Sam was right! Dean –

Suddenly John remembered something else. "You… You pulled Dean from hell."

Frowning, Castiel turned to Dean. "You didn't tell him?"

Dean shrugged, throwing his arms in the air helplessly. "Well I got a little distracted, what with Lilith's little stunt-demon sending Sam into the ER and all!"

"Tell me what?" John looked from Dean to Castiel, confused.

"Uh, I kind of forgot to tell you…"Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. " Castiel is the one that pulled you from hell."

"I… oh." John wasn't sure what to say. He was taken off guard, and wasn't sure if surprise or gratitude was the most prominent emotion at the moment. "Uh… Thanks." _Wow John, great. An angel pulled you from hell and all you can say is "Uh… Thanks"?!_

Castiel nodded in John's direction, as if he had read his mind. "You're welcome, John. I appreciate your gratitude."

Dean blushed. "Uh Cass, I probably didn't thank you and all, but" –

"It's alright Dean." Castiel nodded as if he was already familiar with this information, and looked from John to Dean. "Where is Samuel now?"

"With Ruby," Dean offered, slightly taken aback by the quick change of pace. John could tell that he wasn't happy giving up this information freely. "She's meeting us at Bobby's."

Castiel sighed deeply, shaking his head slowly. His face was still calm, although he looked upset. "Dean…"

"Look, I know Cass. She's not exactly at the top of your wish list, and then again I'm not a big fan of her either, but" –

"Who you trust is your business." Castiel's voice was cold, although John suspected that it was like that all the time. "But just make sure that you really _can_ trust her. We can't afford setbacks right now."

If there was something in the angel's voice that John had missed, it hadn't bypassed his son. "Right now?" Dean paused. "What's so different about right now?"

"That's why I'm here." Castiel addressed both of them almost hesitantly. "Fifty-four seals have been broken."

"What?" John stepped foreword, shocked. From what Dean and Bobby had told him, he knew that the breaking of seals meant the bringing of the apocalypse. But it had seemed like the angels were in control… How could they let so many seals break? "I thought you guys had this under control?"

Dean seemed to be thinking the same thing, although he didn't say so. "Fifty-four?" He looked to the angel in shock.

"I have received revelations from our superiors…"Castiel faltered. He seemed to be having trouble with what he was about to say. "We have permission to try a new tactic."

John didn't really know what "revelations" were, or who Castiel's superiors were supposed to be, but he didn't like the way that Castiel's tone portrayed them. "A… a new tactic?" He looked to the angel in confusion, unsure if he really _wanted_ to know how angels fought battles. It was hard enough believing that Castiel was an angel in the first place, let alone that he was an angel that actually _fought _things.

"Many of my brother's and sisters are loosing their lives in this fight," Castiel continued soberly. "And Lilith is very skilled at keeping her actions hidden from us. We need more human assistance. There are certain things she cannot hide from humans… We can fight from both sides now, so to speak."

"I don't get it," Dean raised an eyebrow at his angel-friend. "Cass, we really are trying here. I know that there aren't enough people on board, but it's not like we can just inform the general population about hunting and hope that they sign up!"

"That's not what I mean..."Castiel took a deep breath, holding it for a second before releasing it. " We have permission to resurrect hunters. Eight of them."

John frowned, as the seriousness of the situation dawned on him. Wow… this really w_as_ bad. He had been stuck inside his own little bubble so long that he had neglected to notice that the world was ending… The world was _ending_! If they were bring hunters back from the dead, than that meant things were getting rough. _Really_ rough. The fact that Dean and John had been pulled from hell was tribute enough to that fact.

"Eight is a lot of people to be bringing back to life." Dean spoke, sounding almost angry. "Why are you just deciding this just now?"

"It was a hard choice to make, Dean." Castiel acknowledged the question but didn't seem shaken by Dean's anger. On the contrary, he seemed to be pleased by it. "I'm sure you both understand the seriousness of the situation. It was a very controversial decision, and one that in my opinion was made too hastily… But these are desperate times. We spent a lot of time deciding whom we would choose. It was not an easy choice to make."

"So… What do you want us to do about this?" John asked.

"Nothing, for now. Some of the hunters may try to contact you in time. Uriel or I may do the same. He informs me that seven of the eight are already alive. Three of my brothers and I are going after the eighth tonight."

Dean raised an eyebrow in false sarcasm, clearly trying to hide his confusion. "What Cas, Uriel can raise seven souls from the dead on his own and you need back-up to after one dead bloke?"

Castiel didn't seem to find this funny. On the contrary, he seemed even more serious than ever. "Yes Dean. The last soul will be… harder to attain."

"And why _is_ that?" Dean was still using his angry-yet-sarcastic voice, and John could tell that this was a shock for him too.

"Because we will need to fight our way to get to it." John noticed that the angel didn't move a lot, but Castiel seemed even more reluctant to move now. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Castiel was purposely not meeting their eyes. "Her situation is different than the others."

John didn't know why, but suddenly this seemed familiar. His throat felt tight, and he swallowed deeply as he tried to comprehend what this had to do with him. "Different how…?" He eventually piped up, knowing that if he didn't than the question would never get asked.

"You said that some of the hunters might try to contact us." Dean asked his own question, but it came out as more of a statement. "Did we know them?"

Castiel looked to both of them, as if unsure which to answer first, if he was going to answer either at all. His brow furrowed, and for a moment there was silence. "Yes, Dean, you knew some of the hunters." Castiel raised his eyes to Dean, and paused for a minute to let the information sink in.

Both men hesitated, unsure how to respond. Truth was, they shouldn't have been surprised but of course the information was a bit of a shock. Who would it be? People that they knew, people that they perhaps cared about and befriended, were being raised from the dead. And the list of the diseased was a long one to choose from.

"And the situation is different…"Castiel cleared his throat softly, his jaw working in thought. " Because the eighth soul is in hell."

There it was. John nodded slowly, processing the information with a slight grimace. Of course. There had to have been a reason why the angel was so remorseful, and why he had seemed to avoid their questions like the plague. Castiel was about to go down into hell and fight to pull a soul free. It was a strange realization, but it was one that made sense. Why would Dean and John be the only ones set free? There had to be at least _one_ more soul down there that wasn't completely corrupt and evil. He sighed. "Who?" He asked, his voice harder than he had intended. The question, in his mind, was completely logical. Angels were about to pull a soul free from hell, so that meant that this person was still considered good. He had only been in hell for a year in earth years, and he knew well enough how bad it was. People lost themselves very easily. So whoever this was, and however long they had been down there, deserved some recognition if their soul was still intact. "Who is it?"

"You already know her," Castiel answered calmly. John looked up with confusion, but then he realized that the angel was looking at Dean. "Her name is Abby."

For a second, Dean didn't seem to process the name. But then, as if a switch had flipped, his eyes widened with recognition. "Bela…" the word was barely a whisper, but they all heard it.

"Yes, I suppose you would know her by that name…"Castiel nodded slowly, acknowledging the recognition on Dean's face. " Bela Talbot is the eighth soul."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxx

**Clifhanger? Surprize? Weird? Review and tell me what you think!**

**For those of you who like guessing, I want to hear from you. Who are some of the other souls? What happened to Bela in hell? What is going on with Sam and Ruby? How will they stop Lilith?**

**All these answers and more, soon to come!**


	27. Chapter 27

For a moment, everything was silent. Castiel and John was both watching Dean in waiting for his reaction, John rather impatiently. "Bela?" Dean's mouth fumbled over the name as if he had never heard it before, but the truth was that it had just been such a surprise. "You're pulling _Bela_ from hell?"

John still looked confused. Castiel raised an eyebrow almost conspicuously. "You seem almost disappointed, Dean."

Dean recognized the hint when he got it, and it was like a slap in the face. "No," he hurried to explain himself, although not exactly sure what he was in fact feeling. "It's not that. I mean, she didn't deserve to go, just that I never really expected – I never thought – She was a bitch, but – I don't think I…"Dean choked on his own words, frowning.

Truth was, he hadn't given Bela much thought at all since their last conversation. He remembered the last words he ever said to her. _"I'll see you in hell…"_Those words had been bitter and hateful, and Dean had meant them. Someone had spoken them on his deathbed to someone who was also on her deathbed, but just a little closer. He had never heard anything, never asked around or found out what had happened after that. There had been barely enough time for him to breath at all, knowing that his own deal was so close to coming undone. Dean hadn't even found out if she _had_ in fact gone to hell, although it had been inevitable. Why would you look into what you already know? Bela had suffered the same fate as Dean; that much was certain. But he hadn't seen her in hell as he had promised before her death. He hadn't even _thought_ about her, Dean realized with a pang of guilt. Although in his defense he had been a little busy at the time. But that just brought him back to the same thought he had been having all along. Yeah, Bela had been a bitch. But Dean was free. Bela was _in_ hell. In _hell_. And the fact that she had stolen the colt from him didn't justify that.

"Dean?" Someone said his name, and Dean looked up.

"I…"Dean cleared his throat, bringing himself back to the present situation. He frowned. "But Bela isn't even a hunter," he mused.

"You're right, Dean." Castiel nodded slowly. "But she is capable of doing so if we need her to. Even more important than any hunting ability that she might or might not possess is the… The Intel that she might be able to recover for us."

Dean hesitated. "Intel?" John questioned for him. Neither one liked the sound of that.

Castiel cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Dean knew that the angel was not uncomfortable often, and that made _him_ uncomfortable. Heck, the whole situation made him uncomfortable!

"She might be able to tell us a bit more about some of the demon's who are eluding us," Castiel continued once he had his graces back. "Lilith has quite of few powerful demon's under her belt. Alistair is one of them. He is breaking quite a few seals on his own, and we need someone who can tell us what he is working on right now."

Dean mentally flinched at the name, and he noticed that his father _physically_ flinched at the name. Seeing that, Dean clenched his jaw as a wave of hatred washed through him. In some sick way he had kind of hoped that Alistair had been _his _thing: that maybe all the time Alistair had spent on hurting Dean in hell was less time spent hurting someone else. And even worse than the thought of that monster being set loose on someone like Bela was the thought of Alistair set loose on his father.

"Isn't that what you wanted us for?" John's sarcastic remark brought Dean back to the conversation, and he was surprised to see that John was even quicker on the draw than he. Dean wanted to comment on that, but there was really nothing to say. And honestly he didn't want to comment for fear of creating a similar reaction in his father than he had just experienced himself. If Dean felt this strongly about the possibility of a relationship between John and Alistair, it was damn sure that John would feel the same way about Dean.

If Castiel noticed this little anger/understanding situation between father and son, he did not comment. Although his voice was a little softer than Dean had been expecting. "That is one of the reasons. But truthfully, neither of you can tell us what Alistair is doing_ now_, and Bela perhaps can. Besides, there are not a lot of souls we could pull from hell that we could still use for our own purposes."

Faces hard and throats tight, both men nodded. There wasn't much else to say, really. No one really wanted to contemplate what Alistair was up to right now, and for Bela's sake Dean hoped that it didn't involve her. Suddenly he wanted to throw up. Dean never thought he would ever have wanted to see Bela ever again, but suddenly he just wanted to see her in front of him so he could know that she was at least in one piece.

"Do it," he muttered softly, with much less strength than he had intended. "Do it now."

John didn't say anything. He was staring at the ground as if the pavement below his feet was a Shakespearian tragedy at the climax, and his jaw was tightly set. It was clear the he was in a similar mind-frame.

Castiel looked from John to Dean, and then nodded. "I will pray for a successful mission," he replied with sobriety. "Someone will tell you when it is done."

And before anyone could blink, Castiel was gone. Dean was used to it, and frankly he was too numb to care. John jumped slightly but went back to staring at the ground shortly after.

Dean had noticed two things. First of all, Castiel had come close to saying "if" instead of "when," and that he had said that someone would tell them. It was never _someone_, it was always Castiel. Did that mean that the angel could be loosing his life in this mission?

Dean suddenly felt more compassion for the angel than he had felt before. Castiel had been bearable most of the time, and even companionable at others. But Dean had never considered that Castiel had risked his life to drag Dean out of hell. And he had done the same for John. And now, he was about to go back for Bela.

It was unclear if Dean could ever consider Castiel a friend. He was an angel, a self-righteous prick and couldn't carry a decent conversation, but he had proved his worthiness of Dean's respect and – as of now – gratitude. And he never even _wanted_ to consider Bela a friend, although now she had his understanding and pity.

So now, even if he couldn't _like_ them, Dean wanted more than anything to see those two make it out alive.


	28. Chapter 28

"So…"Sam raised an eyebrow at Ruby, who hadn't so much as looked at him in an hour since she started driving but instead hummed along to some form of screaming heavy metal band on the radio that Dean would despise. " You know, for a kidnapper you sure are boring."

Ruby's face lifted in a smirk, although she didn't look at him out of spite. "You're not so dazzling yourself, princess. If you wanted a conversation all you had to do was start one."

"Oh…"Sam turned back to looking out the passenger window, sighing. " Alright then."

It was then that Ruby finally looked at him, concern etched across her pretty face. "Sam, what is it?"

Confused, Sam returned the look. "Excuse me?"

"Well you just… gave up." Ruby was still looking at him, and Sam hoped that she was good at driving without watching the road. "That was too easy. What, no smartass comment?"

Sam simply shrugged. "I dono… I guess not. I'm not really in the mood for a fight" –

Suddenly, Ruby started speeding up rapidly, her face on the road again and her hands tight on the wheel. "Fine then."

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam grabbed onto the sides of the seat on either side of him as the speedometer rose. "Ruby, slow down!"

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on," Ruby answered as calmly as if she wasn't driving them to their deaths. "You still didn't even tell me why you left in the first place."

"Yes I did!"

"Not the _real_ reason." Ruby actually looked away from the road to glare at him while speeding up at the same time, causing Sam's heart to jump in his chest.

The speedometer hit 180 miles an hour. "Fine!" Sam practically shouted it in her face, wondering what would happen if he tried to grab the wheel and stop her. "Alright, I'll tell you! Just stop already!"

Ruby's face lit up with a grin so annoying that Sam wanted to slap her. But of course, he didn't. He waited until she slowed down completely and pulled over on the side of the road, and then she eventually turned to face him with a smile. "Story time, Sammy." She quirked her eyebrows at him.

Not even aware that he was out of breath until now, Sam took a minute to collect himself. After all, he wasn't exactly in the best condition… But right now that didn't matter. "You bitch." Sam shook his head slowly, glaring daggers at her. "You" –

In response, Ruby revved the engine again, causing Sam to grab the dashboard in alarm. "Okay, Okay! Just don't kill me! Dammit Ruby!"

Ruby put the car in park, crossing her arms over her chest to turn and look at Sam with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. "Well then…"She tilted her head forewords, gesturing for Sam to continue.

Sam licked his lips, wondering where to start. He had told Ruby a _lot_ of things, but this wasn't one of the ones he would like to share. They didn't talk about emotions, or family, or love, or personal reasons like that. And that was exactly what she was asking of him.

Suddenly Ruby's face softened a little bit. "It's your dad, isn't it? Your afraid of what he might think."

Dumfounded, Sam could only stare at her. Was it _that_ obvious? "I… I uh…"

Ruby sighed. "Dean too."

_Stop that?!_

"Yeah, maybe it does have something to do with my dad." Sam nodded, staring her back in the face like he didn't know what she was talking about. "And Dean too. Maybe I respect my family's opinion of me, alright? Maybe I would rather them see me as I am now than what I'm supposed to become when the vision comes true. Not to mention the fact that they would be _safer_ far away from me. Luck isn't exactly one of the qualities I can account for…"

For a minute, Ruby seemed surprised. She probably didn't expect him to be honest, let alone spew the answer out like that. After a good thirty seconds of returning Sam's stare, she nodded. "Alright then," She uncrossed her arms and turned back to the wheel, putting the car back into drive.

"You…"Sam frowned in confusion at her response. " You don't have _anything_ to say to that. That's it? _Alright then_? You almost kill me and you wont even comment?!"

The car started to move, this time at a more leisurely – and legal – pace. "There's nothing to say, Sam." Ruby shrugged, completely nonchalant about the whole thing. "All you're telling me I already know. I don't need to hear it again and I'm sure you don't want me to comment, so I wont. I'm just a little disappointed that you didn't have the balls to stay and confront them yourself."

"Excuse me?!" Sam turned his full body to face her, outraged. "You don't know my family. Okay? You don't know _me_."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "I know you pretty well, Sam" –

"And I'm not _afraid_ of anything. I've never been afraid of them, or what they might think. Like I said… I just respect their opinions." Sam glared at her, wishing that for once she would just react and look a little afraid for once. But of course, nothing.

"If you're not afraid," Ruby piped back as she smirked at the road ahead of her. "Than why did I have to practically drag you into this car? Hmm? Mr. Bigshot Sam Winchester had to have his bag's ransacked just to keep him from running away. I'm not letting you escape with your tail beneath your legs this time. I don't know how your father's deal died, but you clearly did not have any closure and now you are so lost its almost depressing. You think he wont take you back, that he isn't proud of what you've become. As for Dean… we both know that disappointing him has always been your worst fear."

Sam cleared his throat, uncomfortable. He hated – _hated_ – the fact that she was so good at this. Just working with her… that was all it was supposed to be. He never meant to hunt with her, or sleep with her, or let her teach him to use his powers. He never meant to let her call him Sammy, or to let her drive when he was perfectly capable of doing so. He never meant to trust her, or tell her secrets, or let her see him cry. He never meant for her to see who he really was. But it looks like that all went to hell without him even noticing that it had gone. "So… So what if I am afraid of what Dean might think? What if I am afraid of dad not taking me back? It's understandable. We're family. They're all I have…"

Ruby didn't turn back to look at him, although her jaw muscles clenched and a chord in her neck tightened slightly. "No Sam…"Her voice was surprisingly harsh. " They aren't."

It took Sam a long time to realize that she was talking about herself. He hesitated, unsure how to proceed in such unsafe territory. "Look, I didn't mean it like" –

"It doesn't matter," Ruby shook her head with pursed lips, shrugging. "You're right. They are your family, and yeah I do agree that you should go back to them. I'm the one making you go, aren't I?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Sam knew that he wasn't supposed to answer. Still, he felt obligated to say something to fix this. Ever since their conversation in the hotel room before he had had another vision, he had been considering the fact that maybe Ruby had feelings for him. He didn't know what those feelings _were_ exactly, but the fact that she was even the slightest bit emotionally venerable was a new idea to him. Of course Ruby had seen Sam's vulnerability from the beginning, but he had still refrained from crossing that line. They weren't girlfriend and boyfriend. They weren't lovers. They weren't partners. Hell, she was a _demon_. The thought of feeling any emotional attachment to each other at all, let alone showing it, was incomprehensible. Let alone scary. Even if Ruby _had_ the ability to possess emotions even sublimely close to love, who was to say that Sam was? What if he was so broken that he couldn't even do that anymore? And considering the fact that Ruby had spent centuries rotting in the pit it was hard to imagine her opening herself up to anyone under any circumstance. "Ruby…"Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. " You know I didn't" –

Ruby laughed, although it sounded forced. "Whatever. Don't worry about it." She hesitated before reaching out a slender hand to turn up her emo music. "I'll take you home."


	29. Chapter 29

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Back…

And forth.

Bobby's feet were getting tired as they were dragged across his worn carpet by his ever-fidgety legs. Back and forth he went. Pacing was never a habit he had been into, not for most of his life anyways. He had always been a calm and patient man. But that was before he met John Winchester. John had come into his life like a tyrant; crazy, impatient, risky, and dragging his two sons around the country like they were his little caddies. Eventually as Bobby got to know John and his sons better, he came to see that the oldest was also a risky tryant, and that the youngest was also impatient and crazy. So he had his hands full on the days when John came over and dumped his kids at Bobby's for a few nights. There was no point in Bobby arguing with the man that he wasn't a babysitter, because everyone knew that first of all; John didn't care, and second of all; Bobby would take Sam and Dean anytime anywhere and loved them more than he would like to admit. So he had seen them go through diapers, guns, cars, girls, and hunts. He had seen Sam to go college and Dean inherit the Impala. Those were the good 'ol days. But after John had died, things all went to hell. He had to watch those boys grow up all over again, and they became more like their father than was really healthy. And then Sam died… And Dean went and followed in his igit-father's igit-footsteps. Dean went after that and well… Things just went to hell all over again.

But now, John was back. Sam was alive, Dean was out of hell, and John was back! The world was looking up. Well, there was the whole apocalypse-on-their-door thing and all that entailed, but other than that Bobby had been pretty ecstatic.

But of course, Bobby had forgotten how stupid Winchesters could be. He loved them all to death, but it was amazing how three of the smartest men he ever knew couldn't find the brains to just _call him back_!

Sam was gone, run away on one of his igit-schemes to save the world on his own, so of course he wasn't going to show any decency and call. Dean and John were searching for Sam off on their own, but of course they were too buisy focusing on things that obviously seemed more important than Bobby. And Bobby was supposed to wait here and see if Sam showed up or called, so he couldn't go after any of them.

So back and forth he went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Back…

And forth.

This family was going to send him to his grave early, he just knew it.

_Bring!_

Bobby almost jumped, surprised out of his pacing-stupor by the ringing of one of his many phones sitting on his messy desk or attached to the wall beside it. He stared for a minute, searching for the blinking light that would show him just which one was the culprit, and when he found the right phone he jumped on it like a hyena on a steak.

"Hello?" Bobby kept his voice even, not wanting to sound too kind or too harsh. Who knew whom he was talking to, after all? Best to say neutral until he had his bearings.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Bobby was starting to think that maybe the caller end had hung up. He was just about to do so himself when he heard quick breathing on the other end. "B-Bobby?"

Pausing, Bobby struggled to think about where he had heard that voice before. He cleared his throat, not comfortable with being out of the loop. "Yeah, that's what they call me. What do you want?"

"I… I know I'm not really welcome but I didn't really know whom else to call. I just got… I'm not really sure what h-happened, and I was just sort of… I had to get in contact with someone I knew and your number was the first one I remembered."

Of course. Bobby's heart dropped into his shoes, and if he didn't know better he would have sworn that the old thing had finally given out. He recognized the voice, but it couldn't be right. He knew better than to believe that he could be hearing it again. It was just too crazy.

"…Bobby, are you still there?"

He cleared his throat, finding that suddenly it felt dry. "Bela?"

"Bobby," Bela's voice was almost a sob. "I didn't… Look I know you probably don't want to hear from me but" –

"_Bela_?" Bobby repeated the question almost stupidly, too amazed to believe it.

"Surprised?" There was some sort of dry laugh on the other end, and then silence. "I can't say that I blame you."  
"Bela, I…"Bobby removed his trucker cap, running a hand through his balding hair and replacing it again shortly after. " It's been almost a year now. We all thought you were in – We all thought you were dead. How did you get away? Where are you?"

When Bela answered, her voice was almost hesitant. "I'm in Ainsworth Nebraska. Can… Do you think you can pick me up? I don't… I know you don't want to see me again but I really don't have anywhere to go."

Bobby couldn't help noticing that she had avoided the most important question of the day – how are you still alive?! – but he decided to let it go for now. "That isn't too far away from here. I can come pick you up in a few hours. Just… Just hang tight. When I get there you owe me one _hell_ of an explanation."

"Look, I don't know how many blanks I can fill for you, but I guess I can try." Bela's British accent was slightly slurred from either alcohol or exhaustion, and judging by the circumstances Bobby guessed the later. "Thanks."

Bobby nodded, shoving his feet into his boots. "Alright. That isn't good enough for me, but then again there isn't much I can wrestle out of you over the phone. I'll meet you at the first coffee shop listed in the phone book around five or six."

There was a small sigh over the line, and then silence. "Bobby… I…"

He heisted, phone in one hand. "What?"

"I don't know why you're helping me, and I know I don't deserve it… but thanks."

"No, you don't." Bobby was surprised at the emotion in his own voice, and he suddenly realized how much he had actually been affected by her betrayal to the boys. "I never said I forgive you. But I'm damn-well not going to let you become a hobo in the middle of nowhere when I could kick your ass myself."

Bela made a sound that could have been a laugh, but because of mutual tiredness and the strain of the conversation it was hard to tell. "I didn't expect anything less. I'll be at the coffee shop as promised. And when I get some money I can pay you back" –

"No need," Bobby sighed, running a hand over his face. "I'll see you when I see you. Until then, stay out of trouble."

He could almost sense Bela nodding on the other end, and she was starting to say something that sounded like "thank" – when he hung up the phone. Oh well, he figured, she could thank him and apologize later. Bobby was almost counting on it.

But the more important matter was not how many times she was going to have to apologize to him – let alone Dean! – get some form of trust back. The important thing was the fact that she was even here to need any! It didn't make sense… Nobody escaped the hellhounds. Nobody. So how was Bela still alive?

Another thought hit Bobby like a freight train, and his mouth formed a tiny O. What if Bela wasn't _still_ alive, but she was just _back_? Just like Dean and John?

Suddenly Bobby realized that Bela wasn't the only one who had some explaining to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Not a very long update, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. I just wrote it all at like midnight tonight because I really wanted to update, so if there are any stupid grammatical errors I missed please just blame it on my tired state. I am so happy to see the positive fan response to this story, and I am glad you guys like it. You guys rock! Please review! I will update soon!**

**With love, ArmagonAuthor**


	30. Chapter 30

The sun had been up for two hours by the time John and Dean pulled into the gravel road in front of Bobby's house. Exhausted from an entire day of driving, they grabbed their bags, locked the car, and dragged their feet up the creaky wooden steps to the front door. Inside their own minds each man was caught, thinking about all the events of the previous day. John knew that soon he would have to ask his son about this Bela woman, and about Castiel and Dean's involvement with the both of them. That would all happen, but not right now.

Just their luck, the door was locked when they reached it. Maybe Bobby had forgotten they were coming, they figured, even though they were too tired to notice that his car was missing from the driveway behind them. To tired to think straight, they simply unlocked it with Dean's old set of keys and trudged inside. Once there, they escaped to their respective rooms. All in all there were about two words spoken between the pair of them. And by the time their heads hit the pillows, they were already asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bobby pulled into the parking across the street from the local café, his eyes scanning the cars around him for expensive cars, expensive coats, or anything that would point Bela's appearance out to him out of the rest of the people in the nearby area. His hunter's eyes were alert, and he jumped out of – and locked – his car with a calm expression that hid how freaked he really was. Looking around for a minute, Bobby realized that there were no cars that seemed expensive enough to be Bela's, or anything at all that hinted that she was here. Maybe he had to give the woman some credit. She sure knew how to cover her tracks. But then again, Bobby realized, who said that she drove here? If she really needed his help, then she probably didn't have anything like cars or money to rely on. Maybe she _had_ just been pulled out of hell.

Picking up is pace; Bobby hurried across the street and into the little café. He leaned against the door, and it chimed above his head as he entered. The room was darker than outside, littered with paper lanterns that hung from the ceiling everywhere and gave the room what was supposed to be called "ambiance." But to Bobby it just looked plain stupid.

There were a few people sitting at little tables or at the counter, and a few of them turned to give him curious looks. Turns out that it wasn't a very popular place to be, because most of them seemed surprised to see him there. As if strangers didn't stop for coffee when they passed through town!

Before he continued inside, Bobby took a minute to scan the room. There was an old couple who were holding hands, and a small bunch of teenagers that seemed to like the colour black more than was normal. Also, there was a heavyset middle-aged man stuffing his face with a bagel. But there was no Bela.

Confused, Bobby backed out of the door and back into the bright sunshine outside. _Alright Bela, what the hell are you up to now?_ He took a few steps outside, his foot hit the pavement and –

"Bobby!"

He turned, confused, to see Bela Talbot herself. She was sitting on the sidewalk, her arms crossed across her dirt-clad knees. Now she was stumbling to her feet, brushing her hands quickly across her stomach and her thighs, down her arms, but Bobby saw the dirt there. It was more dirt than Bela would ever allow on her clothes _ever_, and it was all over. It was smeared across her shins and entangled in her hair. There was something black across her nose too that Bobby couldn't pinpoint. Bobby's breath caught in his throat, remembering Dean stumbling into his house covered in dirt, a bemused and confused expression on his face. But this wasn't Dean, Bobby reminded himself. This was Bela. Bela Talbot. The British rich bitch who had her parents murdered and tried to do the same to Sam and Dean. Of course, that was _after_ she stole money, artifacts and the colt from them and shot Sam. No, Bela was _nothing_ like Dean.

It was still hard not to be reminded of him though, by Bela's appearance. Beyond the dirty "I just pulled myself from the casket" look, her face was awed and surprised. For once, she didn't have some stupid smirk on her face. It had been replaced with the look of someone who had no clue what they were doing, and Bobby was surprised to see that Bela actually looked relieved to see him.

"Bela," Bobby took a few steps towards the girl and put his grumpy face back on. "What the hell happened to you?"

To Bobby's surprise, Bela actually smiled. It was a nervous smile, but still a smile nevertheless. "I, uh… I didn't think you would actually come."

"I told you I would, didn't I? So why are you sitting outside like a hobo? Shouldn't you be sucking back on the latté's right now?"

Bela's smile turned to a wince as she ran a hand absentmindedly through her hair. "Well I found out that you can't actually be in the cafe's unless you are buying something." Her lip raised in a half-smirk. "I don't have any money, you know… on me. So I had to leave."

"Oh." Bobby cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Makes sense."

She quirked her eyebrows at him, looking more like herself than ever. "Well I'd hope so. You seem pretty intelligent to me."

Bobby almost laughed in relief, but he controlled himself. "Well from you, that's a compliment like a Pulitzer. I almost forgot who I was talking too." He crossed his arms, looking her up and down with a sigh. "Now first things first. I'll pay for lunch, but first I think I'll book a hotel room so you can shower up. I'm not dining with the beast."

"What does that make you then, beauty?" Bela started to walk forwards towards the parking lot where she knew Bobby's car would be. "Don't be fazed that I actually fit in with you hunters for once."

Bobby rolled his eyes, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket as he neared his parking spot. Hadn't he been prepared for this?

"Don't get dirt on the seat," he mumbled as they crawled into their respective places in the front of the old car. Bela looked to him with a slight sneer.

"No more than would usually be there, at least.."

_Looks like someone hasn't changed much. _Bobby frowned at the woman beside him with distaste, wishing he was young enough to stick his tongue out at her. She seemed to return the look.

So all he had to do was buy a hotel room, order takeout, drive a few hours to his place. Easy… right?

No… this was Bela. It was never easy.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ruby looked to Sam beside her, frowning at his "sleeping" form. He was breathing way too hard to be sleeping, and they both knew it. Still, he kept his body turned away from her and his face practically up against the window in his horrible job of pretending to be. His shoulders were too tense, and it sounded like he was struggling with something. Sam's breathing hitched.

There it was again. Ruby sighed. "Sam…"

To Ruby's annoyance, Sam didn't answer. Who did he think he was fooling?

"Sam, I know you aren't sleeping." She leaned over in the seat to give him a shove, and he returned the favor by moaning and turning to give her a glare. Ruby couldn't help noticing the dark circles under his eyes, or the furrowed brow above them. Surprised, she hesitated. "You okay?"

Sam wiped a hand over his face, peaking over his fingers with a fake confused look. " Yeah, I'm fine."

It only took a few seconds to see through his lie. Ruby could tell by the way Sam shuffled in the seat, trying to take the weight of the bruise on his shoulder and stretch out his leg to favor his hurt knee. Of course, he couldn't do either of those when he was crammed into a stolen car that had less legroom than a kiddy-pool. "Sam… When was the last time you had your pills?"

"I…"The false accusatory look dissolved pretty quickly when Sam realized that his lie had been discovered, and he slouched in the seat with a sigh. " I don't know. A while ago."

"And where _are_ they?" Ruby raised her eyebrows at him sarcastically. What, did she have to be his freaking mother too?

Sam caught the look, and winced. "In my bag… In the trunk."

"Oh. Of _course _it is." Ruby pulled over hard onto the shoulder of the road, and Sam flinched when he got jolted into the door beside him. She cursed herself internally, not meaning to be _quite_ so violent about it, but the deed was done anyways. "I'll go get them," She offered as a condolence, opening the car door to escape the confines of the tiny car.

"I got it," Sam was out of the car before Ruby could protest, and he limped his way to the back of the car. _Stubborn-assed_ _Winchester._

"Fine." Already out of the car, Ruby joined him at the rear of the vehicle. She leaned against the back of it, turning to look sideways at the man beside her as he rummaged through his bag. Sam's face was pinched in a scowl, and he was purposely not looking at her out of spite. She could tell by the way that he was standing that most of his weight was on his good leg, so his knee was obviously still bothering him. Her eyes traveled back to Sam's face, taking advantage of the fact that he was looking the other way. Ruby noticed that he could use a shower and a shave, but from this close didn't mind if he got either. The flannel shirt that hugged his torso and his arms caught her eye and suddenly she wanted to loose herself in the feel of it. As if that wasn't enough, Sam's face was close enough that Ruby could reach out and touch it. Instead, she cleared her throat and looked ahead to the cars passing by. She should have better control. She knew better than that.

As Sam pulled away from the trunk, Ruby backed up so that he could shut it. "Got everything?" Ruby looked to Sam with concern, and he finally met her eyes. Almost like surrender, he held his satchel up like a trophy. " Yeah, I'm good. Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Bang! _

Dean rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. What was that? He propped himself up on one elbow, sitting up in bed a little. There was nothing… _Alright then…_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Okay. That was _definitely _something or someone hitting wood with what, their fists? Dean strained his ears, throwing his legs over the other side of the bed so he could sit up. The hardwood floor in Bobby's old house was cold on his bare feet. He ignored it. Standing up, he continued slowly to walk to the hall.

_Bang! Bang! _

Suddenly he knew what that sound was. Someone was at the door.

Dean's feet couldn't move fast enough. "Sammy!" He hurried down – and practically fell down – the stairs, and ran to the front door. Sam was home! Holy crap, Sam was home. He was so going to kick that kid's ass, but first Dean had to admit that he was literally jumping for joy and relief that his little brother was _finally_ home. In a flash, his hand reached for the handle, and jammed on it. "Sonofa…"Dean shook it briefly, cursing. _Alright… left hand._ He tried again, reaching a little bit more slowly for the door. And he twisted the handle, throwing the door open with excitement.

"Hey Dean."

That was _so_ not the voice he wanted to hear right now. Dean's excitement level went down through the floor. Rock bottom of emotional high, actually. If he had been at "little kid at Christmas time" mode, he was now officially at "little kid who just realized that Santa wasn't real" mode. He threw a dark frown on his face, glowering.

"Bela… What the hell are you doing here?"


	31. Chapter 31

Dean stared in surprise at the woman before him, her hair damp, her face makeup-free and her clothes looking suspiciously like something he saw on his way out of the last Wal-Mart he went to. "Bela… What the hell are you doing here?"

There was this look on Bela's face for a minute that he couldn't place. Relief? Worry? Nervousness? Anger? Whatever it was, Dean decided, he wasn't meant to see it. And just as soon as it had come, it was gone.

"Dean…"Bela put on her usual smirk, although it was tainted with something that looked like laugher and tiredness rolled together in one. " Not happy to see me, I take it."

Dean stopped to think about that for a second. Was he happy to see her? That was a loaded question. He was happy to see her out of hell, but not happy to see her _here_ on Bobby's front porch. Actually, he had been planning on celebrating her release without ever having to see her again. So much for that theory. Freaking angels. "I'm…"Dean took a deep breath and released it, noting Bobby's warning look over Bela's shoulder. " Surprised."

It was Bela's turn to sigh. The awkwardness of this whole situation hung in the air like a thick black fog. "Yeah… me too. When Bobby told me you were here, I…"

"Dean, what the _hell_ are you doing up this early in the morning? Some of us are trying to get a day's rest for Pete's sakes!" John's tired and indignant voice echoed upstairs, and when he showed up on the stairs he had his grumpy face on. It only got worse when he saw the group congregating in the doorway.

"John," Bobby reacted first, stepping into the doorway instead of standing outside. "This is" –

"Bela Talbot, am I right?" John was now at the bottom of the stairs, walking at that leisurely but deadly pace that Dean had learned to master so well. He had his deadly face on too. A pissed off, sleepy, surprised John was never a good thing. Especially not when you had caught him in his pyjamas. "We were told you were coming, but a little forewarning might have been nice. It is five in the morning, you know."

By now, Bela had her game face on. "Well that can't be too early for a hunter, right?" She raised one of those perfectly tweaked eyebrows of hers implicatively. "The early bird catches the demon, isn't that how the story goes?" Shrugging, Bela puffed up her chest and kept her shoulders back in that self-righteous stance she always wore. "And for the record… John… I did give forewarning. I called Bobby a few hours ago. What he decides to tell you isn't _my_ problem."

John didn't take the bait, but merely shrugged. "Is that so?" If John was surprised that Bela knew his name, he didn't show it. After all, he was probably pretty used to people knowing who he was by now. Famous all across America, John Winchester had been a hunting hero and after his death was reduced to a hunting legend. But now he was both.

Bela seemed just about to reply with a smart-ass remark, but she realized something first. She looked from John to Dean, almost as if he were the one who had spoken, then back again. "Wait… _who_ told you I was coming?"

This question surprised Dean, even though it shouldn't have. He didn't recall Castiel pulling him out either. Hopefully, he spoke the angel's name, trying to light a spark in Bela's memory. It didn't.

Bela raised both eyebrows this time. "Who?"

"Castiel," Dean repeated slowly. When the switch still didn't flip, Dean huffed. Did he have to do everything himself? He sighed internally, pulling up the sleeve on his t-shirt to show the large handprint-shaped scar on his shoulder. Bela's gasp was expected, and it fulfilled his suspicions. When he looked up, her eyes were wide as saucers. "I take it you've seen this before? Probably showed up right after you pulled yourself out of a pine box six feet under? Well this is Castiel's _handprint._ I've officially been touched by an angel, and I'd bet cash or money that you've been too."

For a minute, Bela didn't say anything. Either she was deciding what to lie about or she was just overloading from the information. Dean guessed it was somewhere in the middle. "You…"Bela cleared her throat, crossing her arms across her chest subconsciously. " Why do you have one too?"

It was such an unexpected and simply _stupid _question that Dean was actually taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Well when Bobby told me you were here, I just assumed…"

_Oh…._ Now Dean finally understood. Bela thought that he had gotten away somehow. She didn't know that he had gone to hell too. "Well I do have one too." Dean pretended he hadn't caught on to her mistake, deciding to answer her stupid question instead. "I'm guessing that anyone pulled out by an angel would have them." _For the most part… _He actually avoided meeting his father's eyes on this one, just to keep from having that "understanding" moment. Yeah, he knew that John didn't have the handprints. But that was only because an angel assisted him climbing out of the devil's gate. Castiel didn't actually pull him out directly like he did Dean and Bela.

Bela slowly took a deep breath, as if Dean was asking her to dive into a pool of cold water. "And this… Castiel… is an _angel_?" The voice was half skeptical, half confused.

"Yeah," John spoke for the first time in a while, surprising them all. "That one got me too."

Bela sighed, looking to John for a second. Dean wasn't sure if she knew that John had been in hell too, but whatever was on her mind wasn't pursued. Looking from John to Dean to Bobby, Bela pursed her lips for a moment. Maybe she was too tired to argue, or maybe she just didn't care. Heck, she had just been pulled out of _hell _by an _angel._ So from Bela's point of view, why challenge that? A miracle is as a miracle does, right? Eager to leave the subject behind, the question that came out of her mouth next was that of a completely different topic. "So… Where's Sam?"

All three men looked to each other with apprehension. The whole handprint battle-scar discussion was one thing, but revealing Sam's visions and powers was another. With good reason, no one was sure if they really trusted Bela Talbot, no matter how much trust the angels might have in her.

"He's…"Dean started to speak, but his brain blanked. To much thinking at this time of day was just not healthy.

"He's on a hunt." Bobby cut in, giving Dean a wink over Bela's shoulder. "We are expecting him home today, actually."

"And on that note…"John's tone of voice hinted at the lecture that he was about to give. " If this angel character expects us to harbor you for God knows how long… Which I still haven't agreed to by the way… You'd better keep your ass in line. Because shooting my sons, stealing from my sons, having my sons arrested, or sending bloodthirsty vampires after my sons are not thing's I'd approve of." Here came the patented "John Winchester" glare; forehead creased, eyebrows down, mouth set in a hard line, eyes piercing. It was a look that you didn't want to be on the receiving end of. "And trust me… an eye for an eye will be an understatement if I catch you giving my boys a hard time. You understand?"

Dead stare, half smirk, Bela seemed ready to say something against that. But she looked around to the men in the room again – all against her – and she deflated. Her survival depended on her not loosing her temper in this one. "Yes sir. You wont get any trouble out of little old me." She looked John in the eye, giving him a half-and-half genuine smile. "Now," Bela did a complete 180, her voice chirping back to it's normal bossy and sarcastic level. "It's five in the morning, and I'm exhausted. Are one of you guys going to give me a place to sleep, or do women have to sleep on the floor around here?"


	32. Chapter 32

**Hey everybody! I just wanted to say how much of a treat it has been writing for you guys, and I'm enjoying every minute of it. Every review and reader on that list is like music to my ears! **

**So I know you guys have all been very supportive me and all of my decisions with this story, but you guys obviously are more enthusiastic to some possible situations than others. And I have been hinting at a few, for all of you guys who have been paying attention. I'm not going to say what those things are – because that would ruin the surprise – but I am going to say that this chapter is one huge roller-coaster ride. Trust me, conflicted emotions may follow. **

**This chapter is a present to you. For those of you who get really emotional when reading, set aside a Kleenex box, get your thinking caps on, set out some bandaids and prepare a cold shower… and not necessarily in that order. Are you ready? I am! Happy "Best-fans-in-the-world" to you! **

**I enjoyed writing this chapter SOOOOOO much! I hope you guys enjoy reading it too! **

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"_**I don't wanna be afraid, I don't wanna run away**__**  
**__**I don't want to be here fading it's more that I can take**__**  
**__**I'm never gonna be the same**__**  
**__**I threw it all away**__**  
**__**I don't want to be here fading**__**  
**__**Just let go!"**_

_**- Let Go, Red**_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sam leaned back in his seat, his head against the headrest behind him and his eyes closed. Of course, Ruby knew that he wasn't sleeping. _ Sam_ knew that he wasn't sleeping. But frankly, he just didn't want to talk right now. There were just too many thoughts in his head to sort through that it would be impossible for Sam to decide which he would vocalize if he had the chance. The surface-emotions at the time were focused on his family. They were only an hour away from Bobby's, and Dad was going to kill Sam when he got home, he just knew it. Dean would be pissed off of course, but as always his relief would overcome any real anger and he would be back to playing mother hen within twenty four hours. Bobby would tell him that he was an igit for leaving, but he would still insist that Sam stayed as his guest longer. Neither of them would be an issue. No, the real problem would be dad. As far back as Sam could remember, it had come down to him versus dad. While Dean had vented his anger against the various jerks he had come up against through school, Sam had been penting his anger up in the hallways, only to release it the second John said or did something that ticked him off just a little bit. And John was the same way. Why was it that they fought so much, Sam wondered? Maybe it was because they really had no one else to fight with. They were family, and that bond created vulnerability around each other that none of them ever got used to. It was so easy to cross that line into the other person's territory, because the line was so blurred. John had never wanted Sam to see him venerable, so he got mad. Sam wanted to talk things over with his father, and when John closed him out he got mad. Why did they to vent their anger on each other? Was it because they knew they could get away with it?

And they _had_ gotten away with it, for years and years. It had gone on until Sam finally told John what he wanted; to go to college. To _not_ hunt. To be normal. He told his father that he was leaving that life, which John in turn took to mean that Sam was leaving _him._ And well… that had been the end of it.

Four years later, Dean had come along and reunited the dysfunctional family. Sam wanted to hunt the thing that killed Jess, and John wanted to hunt the thing that killed Mary. They had a common ground again. But it had been such a short time after, it seemed, that John had died. Sam never had time for his reunion.

Growing up, Sam had been too young to understand his father. In Stanford, Sam had never _seen_ his father. For four years after John's death, Sam had thought it was too late. Even though Dean had denied this fact for years and years, Sam had always thought that John had died thinking that Sam hated him. And how could he not? Sam had blown every chance he had gotten to show his father how he really felt, and the only thing that John saw was hate. It wasn't hate. It was anger. But how was his dad supposed to know that?

Now that John had come back from the dead, Sam got a new chance to get to know his father for practically the first time ever. And even more importantly, he had a chance to show John who he really was. Honestly, Sam's first thought after he realized that his father was really alive again was that he had gotten a second chance. They both did. John got a second chance – obviously – at life, and Sam got a second chance to be the son that he had failed to be all these years.

But then the visions had come back. Sam didn't want his second impression to be like the man wearing his face in the visions. He would rather John think he hated him – or hate him even – than think him a monster or fear him. So maybe running away wasn't the best idea? It was a quick decision, and Sam would probably have done it again if the situation had surprised him like so again. But now that he was coming back, things were getting complicated. It would be the second time that he would crawl back to his father, tail between his legs, and for what? For another fight? For another chance for John to be disappointed that Sam had never become what he wanted? Sam knew now exactly what his father saw when he looked at him. A monster. A freak. A tossed-aside plaything of the demon that John had been hunting his whole life. _"He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."_ How could Sam make a new impression if he was exactly the same as always? Worse even?

How long had John known the truth about Sam? For most of his life, John never even knew what had killed his wife. Or that was what he told the kids, that is. Maybe he knew the whole time. Maybe he had always known that Azazel, the Yellow Eyed Demon, had killed Mary and given his son a dose of the deadliest virus out there. Why didn't he bother with Sam, then? If it was so inevitable, or such a risk, that Sam would become something evil than why did John even invest twenty years in a possible heartbreak? Sam could see it now…. _"A curly-haired, green-eyed baby lies on the side of the road while a shiny black car drives into the rain towards a new town, a new city, a new state, a new start…"_ It would have been so easy.

But what if John had been telling the truth, and he hadn't known what Azazel was or what Sam was? Did he just _know_ that his son was a little off? Maybe the obsession with learning, the shyness around women, the sudden grown spurts and the need for conformity were just clues as to what was lying underneath the surface. Did John know that he had been raising a little monster?

Well now Sam was a big monster, and things were different now. Sam could take care of himself, so John had no reason to stay around anymore. Would he even take Sam back, now that he had the option to leave?

All this on Sam's mind would have been enough, although it was just the beginning.

Ruby was also an issue. She was… confusing. And more so than any other woman he had met. She didn't answer his questions, but sometimes she would spill something revealing about herself out of the blue. And even though she outwardly cringed whenever he brought on what Dean would call a "chick-flick" moment, she seemed to welcome it whenever he said what he was feeling. Ruby had saved his life too many times to count, and all that she asked in return was his company. All he had to do was help her kill Lilith. They never needed to do anything else, never asked anything of each other but that. It had been the perfect relationship. Even after their little roll in the sheets, there had been no attachment involved. And that had been a good thing, considering that attachment between them never would have or could have worked. So Ruby never even hinted at it. Until now.

Ruby could just be testing him, Sam realized. She might just be finding out how far she could go, how far she could push him. Some demons got their kicks cutting people up, or blowing cities to the ground, but Ruby wasn't like other demons. Maybe enjoyed making him feel venerable, trying to use him to find a connection that made her feel human again for a day. But when she got tired of him, she could just move on again. It would be easy to find another body and another hunter. There had to be more psychics out there than Sam. Why had she chosen him? And whatever the reason was, was it good enough to make her want to say?

Sam couldn't have it all. He was starting to see that now. He couldn't travel on the road with Ruby while traveling on the road with John. (Neither of them would allow it.) And he couldn't continue to hunt Lilith in this fashion while still keeping Dean's respect. (Dean didn't share the obsession for hunting that Sam and John did, only the obedience for it.) And he couldn't continue to live day-to-day like this if he wanted to keep up the close relationship with his surrogate-father Bobby….

Nope, he had to choose. Either he stayed on the road with Ruby and hunted down Lilith with his powers, or he stayed with John, Dean and Bobby, hunting Lilith the old-fashioned way. But he couldn't _have_ both ways. It just wouldn't work.

But then again, Sam was supposed to go darkside anytime now. That's what the vision had implied, anyways. So maybe he wouldn't get to have any of those things. But he wanted them all…

This time, Sam actually fell asleep. It was one of those situations where you drift of without knowing it, and you don't even realize that you were sleeping until you wake up.

Well when he _did_ wake up, it was to Ruby's hand nudging him awake. She was leaning across the seat slightly, her eyes still on the road. "We're almost there. You should probably get up."

"Mhmm…" Sam rubbed his eyes, shifting in his seat. Unlike the much more spacious Impala, this stupid little car that Ruby stole had practically _no_ legroom, so his poor knee was practically up against the dashboard. _Why couldn't I just have stopped growing at six feet? Seriously!_

He sat up straight in his seat, arching his back and stretching his arms up above his head and using the roof of the car to keep him from falling foreword in his stretch. His various joints popped from disuse, and he tried to ignore the flare in his shoulder and stomach from the movement. Beside him, Ruby laughed. If Sam hadn't known any better, he would have thought her laugh was almost pretty. Almost.

Blinking, Sam yawned. "What?"

There was that laugh again. Quiet, soft, almost melodic. Everything that a demon should _not_ sound like. "Nothing… Just that you look like a big cat in a small cage right now."

Sam couldn't help smiling at the reference. _My thought's exactly. _ "Well it's your fault," He shot back half-heartedly. "Try stealing an SUV or something next time, grandma. Some of us are actually _over _five and a half feet tall"

That earned him an eye roll. "Whatever, gumbo. Next time I save your ass I'll make sure to get something a little bigger, so I can run you over with it. How's that sound?"

"Perfect! At least I could stretch out straight on the ground while you drive away!" Sam laughed along, but his lighthearted mood went out the window when he realized that they were pulling into Bobby Singer's yard. "Oh God…"

Ruby put the car in park, but she didn't make any move to get out of it. Sam didn't blame her. He suddenly felt really small, and if he would have been paying attention he would have noticed that his hands were shaking.

"It's going to be fine, Sam." Ruby wasn't looking at him, but was instead watching something through her windshield. "You were trying to help, they can't get mad at you for that."

Sam huffed, trying to sound indifferent. He just sounded scared. "Yes they can."

Ruby pursed her lips for a second. "Look…" Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "Maybe I was wrong to listen to them. If you don't want to go back, you shouldn't have to go back." Ruby turned to look at him, and for the first time he realized what colour her eyes were. They were brown. Dark brown, kind of like a chocolate bar gleaming in the sunlight after it melted away. But her eyes were black… But her host's eyes were brown, anyways. The body was hers now, so why should it matter?

Sam watched her with confusion, caught by the absurdity of a demon having beautiful eyes and now caught but the words coming out of her mouth. Why was she changing her mind now?

"We can always leave, you know." Ruby gestured towards the house with a tilt of her head. "They still don't know we're here. If you really don't want to see them, we can go somewhere else and hunt Lilith down by ourselves. They will be fine. And we both know that I can handle your visions just as well, if not _better_ than Dean can."

Here it was again. The big choice. Ruby or family. Family or Ruby. Either way you said it, Sam didn't want to have to choose. And that confused him. He never cared about Ruby before. He didn't like her, he just used her, and her him, like a mutual agreement. He didn't care about her… did he?

Sam realized that that he had to say something, and he cleared his throat loudly in the stuffy vehicle. Cutting the tension with a knife felt like an understatement at the time. "Ruby… I…"

"If you don't want to put up with that, I'd understand." Ruby suddenly seemed very close. Even though he hadn't seen her moving at all. "The way you talk about them sometimes, I wouldn't blame you. They just don't get you sometimes. I mean… I wish they wouldn't get so angry at you about what you can do. It's not your fault, right? And you're helping people. They don't realize how hard this is on you…"

Sam's mental alert signals were on high. There was something about this conversation that he wasn't catching onto, some notion or thought or idea that he didn't understand. It made no sense why Ruby would be saying these things, or why the tone of her voice seemed different to him somehow. He was vividly aware of the fact that he could smell Ruby's presence, as weird as that sounded. She was all musk and vanilla and hazelnut and Sulphur but somehow not in a bad way. It also hit him that he was sweating, that it was really hot in the stuffy little car even though the heat wasn't on and he had been cold only moments before. Just on que, Ruby tilted her head to the side – in anticipation of his answer, judging by the slightly impatient look on her face – and her dark chestnut hair moved across her shoulders on that flimsy leather jacket, falling foreword and highlighting the fact that he could just almost see down her shirt…

"They're my family…." With all of all of Sam's senses attacking him at once, he couldn't really tell if he was answering on instinct or because he wanted too. "I can't leave them."

"But you already _did._" Ruby sighed, the exact same way that she always did, but this time he wasn't upset. He didn't even register the low blow that had been tossed his way, or if it had even been intended to insult him or not. It didn't even matter, anyhow.

"Well I can't leave them _again_…." Sam's voice didn't come out as assured as he wanted it too, and he felt his resolve slipping away as he let himself lean in towards her, just slightly. By now, he could feel her hot breath on the side of his neck.

And then without warning, she jumped him. Her hands grabbed him by the shoulders, inhuman strength was used to slam his back against the car door, and her mouth was against his with such force that his head hit the window with a pang. If Sam hadn't been expecting it, he would have called it assault. Ruby's hands moved down to his chest and started to unbutton his shirt – and although he didn't help her he didn't stop her either – adrenaline pumping in his ears so loudly that he forgot that he was in a tiny car parked right outside Bobby's house with his father and brother and friend inside, and that any one of them could come out and catch him in this very uncompromising act at any time. He put his hands on her arms, not sure whether to stop her or help her. Her taste, her smell, her hands on his chest, it was wrong. But he wanted it. And for a minute, he forgot that he had been a nervous wreck about this moment for hours that he had been planning out everything that he was going to say to his family when he got home, and for a minute he forgot how much he wanted to be in that house with them.

But it was a short minute.

Suddenly reality struck, and Sam finally found the strength – both physically and mentally – to push Ruby off of him and back into the driver's seat. Someday down the road, he might see that perhaps he had been a bit too rough about it, that she was pretty much lying back on her elbows and her back, a look of surprise on her face as great as if he had hit her. Maybe had, without realizing it.

Sam's voice was harder than he intended, but it wasn't hard enough. He didn't apologize. "I'm going back Ruby… They need me."

Sam understood that the moment was over. End of story. That was that.

Suddenly he didn't want to have to see the look on her face anymore. He shoved through the door, which wasn't hard considering that he was still pressed up against it, and made his way hurriedly to the back of the car to get his things. He reached out to the trunk to open it, and stopped. He didn't have the keys.

Embarrassment flushing his features – and not sure _why_ he was embarrassed, for that matter – Sam stood up straight and made his way robotically to the driver's side of the car. Ruby was sitting up again, her hands on the wheel even though the car was still turned off. She wasn't looking at him. And judging by the look on her face, she didn't want too. Sam was about to tap on the glass and ask for the keys, when he stepped on them. They were sitting right outside the driver's door. Frowning, he knelt down – wary of his injuries – to pick them up. His first finger slipped through the metal key ring, and with a jingle the keys lifted off from the ground. He stood. For a minute, he observed the keys, wondering which belonged to the trunk of the car. He didn't want to ask – even though there were a _lot_ of keys there – and he looked up for a minute to see if it was worth inquiring with Ruby when he realized that she wasn't in the car.

Confused, Sam whipped around, looking this way and that for the brunette demon. She wasn't in the yard, or on the gravel driveway, or on the porch…. Ruby was gone.

Sam pocketed his keys with a sigh, instead opening the driver's side door to pop the trunk from there. Afterwards, he went round to the back to grab his bag. Alone, he limped to the front porch and climbed the steps, standing there awkwardly for a second before getting the balls to pound on the door. He fingered the key ring in his left pocket, wondering how and why Ruby had accumulated so many keys. And why did it even matter to him, for that matter? He turned to look at the tiny car. She had left it behind.

Before Sam had time to process this information, the door swung open behind him. He turned around to see his brother's profile hogging the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob and a look of surprise on his face.

There was a minute of silence between them, before Dean finally took the plunge. "…Sam?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling like a bug under his brother's stare. He didn't know what to say, and apparently, neither did Dean. His brother had this look on his face like he wanted to make a move towards Sam, but whether in the offensive or the supportive Sam couldn't tell. It was amazing how much Dean looked like dad right now.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Dean's first real statement came out loud and rough, like a growl. God, he sounded like dad too.

Sam flinched at Dean's anger, although he knew he deserved it. "Dean… look…"

"Shut up." Dean shook his head slowly looking like he wanted to say something more. His eyes were cold and hard, but something in them changed after a few seconds, and Dean pulled Sam against him. His temper, to Sam's advantage, was too short-lived to hide his obvious excitement to see Sam. And the hug wasn't so bad either.

Sam returned the embrace eagerly, glad to have his brother back. It wasn't until now that he realized that there were tears in his eyes.

"When you get better," Dean mumbled beside his ear. "I am _so _going to kick your ass for this."

Sam nodded, pulling his brother tighter, accepting the pull across his sore shoulder as part of the hug. "I know…"

Dean pulled away, looking his brother up and down and shaking his head. "So… how do you feel?"

Sam tried not to sigh out loud. Of course, Ruby went and told them about his little field trip with the stairs. Honestly, he had been planning on keeping that to himself. But now he was screwed. Trying to make light of it, Sam shrugged, but regretted it soon after. He hadn't noticed at the time, but Ruby's assault in the car kid of hurt. But that was one accident that Dean didn't need to know about, and luckily his injuries weren't from that anyways. "I'll live, man," Sam explained nonchalantly. "Nothing we haven't seen before."

Somehow translating that as "hurts like a bitch but I want you to drop the subject", Dean's frown deepened. But he didn't comment further. "So… uh…." He looked over Sam's shoulder – which was kind of hard considering that Sam was the taller of the two – and back to Sam. "Where's Ruby."

_Good question._ Sam followed his brother's gaze outside, his eyes landing on the car for a second. He decided to act like he knew. "She had to leave. But she left me the car though, just in case we needed it." Sam left out the part about shutting her down, and stepped inside, closing the door behind them and dropping his bag unceremoniously beside his feet.

Sam prided himself in the quick thinking, because Dean didn't even catch the bluff. "Oh." Somehow, Dean didn't seem to mind that Ruby was gone. "Well it's probably a good thing too," he admitted to Sam after a minute. "Because the angels are keeping a pretty close watch on us right now. We just ran into Cass on the way here. He pretty much dropped the proverbial bomb on us right before he left. You will never guess who's" –

"Sam!"

Cut short, Dean turned to see his father standing in the doorway to Bobby's living room, and he shut up immediately. They stood there staring at each other for a few seconds; father and son, John and Sam, Winchester and Winchester, analyzing the situation. Sam's first thought was how good dad looked, and since he was still not used to the man being back he doted on that for a minute. But his second thought was how _angry_ John looked. Whatever Sam had said about Dean looking like dad, he soon forgot it. _Dad_ looked like Dad. Dean had been angry, but John's version of angry was just different. It didn't matter that Sam was a grown man, two inches taller than his father and better built, or that his dad was in his fifties now. It didn't mater that John was all the way on the other side of the room, and that Dean was standing between them. None of that mattered because right now, Sam was scared shitless. Just John's posture, let alone the look on his face, spoke volumes. Sam suddenly knew that he was going to get the holy hell kicked out of him. And when John started walking forwards with his fists clenched and his jaw set, he practically confirmed it.

Dean must have seen the venom in his father's eyes too, because where he had once been slightly off to the side, he was now right in front of Sam. "Dad," Dean held his hands out in front of him, taking a protective stance between the two men. "Take it easy, okay. Let's think about this for a second."

John's voice, although furious, was calm. "Get out of my way, Dean!"

"Look, I'm mad _too_, okay? But this won't solve anything."

John shook his head angrily, going to walk around Dean but he just jumped right back into place. "Dean, I said" –

"We just need to sit down and talk about this before we do something we're going to regret" –

"_MOVE_!" John couldn't get any louder, and if looks could kill the apocalypse would have probably started already.

Sam knew what was going to happen before it happened. Dean hesitated for a second, his hands still outstretched, but the fight was gone. Even though Sam couldn't see his brother's face, he knew the look that would be there. Confusion, self-hatred, torn alliances. Dean _wanted_ to make the first swing. He wanted to make a stand and protect Sam. But time always tells, and just like he had time and time again, Dean stood aside for his father. It was moves like this that had always pissed Sam off, had always made him despise Dean for such obedience to their father. But right now, Sam couldn't really blame him. That was just who Dean was, and sometimes everyone had a line that they couldn't cross no matter how much they wanted to. The look on Dean's face was enough for Sam to forgive him, and Dean couldn't have portrayed his emotions more if he had written a giant "I'm sorry" on his forehead. "It's okay," Sam replied with a look. This wasn't Dean's fight. It was his. Sam versus John. Just like old times. And right now, he knew he deserved what was coming.

And it _was_ coming. Sam quickly caught on to the fact that that John had somehow made his way _right _in front of Sam and was still moving, an arm even beginning to raise higher than his waist. And that was high enough to imply his intentions. Sam had been expecting a hit, but John was _way_ too close for the kind of punch that Sam had been expecting. He knew what his father was capable of, and from this distance the man could inflict some damage. Holy shit, was the man planning on breaking his nose? Even though Sam had been planning on standing there and taking it like a man, he closed his eyes in expectance of the punch and flinched just as –

Two arms wrapped around his waist. And even though it hurt – John's body had practically slammed into his, and now the arms were too tight that it was sending flares of pain up and down his side and even cutting off his airways a little bit – he grasped that it wasn't a deliberate attack. It was… a hug?

A hug. Sam opened his eyes, shocked. Dad was hugging him. The comprehension that had seemed so out of his reach for so long was making sense all of a sudden. John _did_ want him back! John wasn't going to abandon him, no matter what he was or could become. Sam didn't even know how much he had needed to see that, but now that he did the idea brought on the waterworks.

"Sam…" John's voice sounded sniffly and out of breath, but that just made Sam hold on all the tighter, probably making it hard for John to breathe too. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Sam sounded like a breathless, snotty mess but he didn't care. They were both crying by now, so what was the use pretending otherwise?

John was nodding to himself, his chin digging into Sam's neck. "No more pushing you away, son. I'm done. We're going to see this through together, you hear?"

"Me too, dad." The response didn't make much sense when you thought about it, but to Sam it made perfect sense at the time. "Me too."

It wasn't an "I love you," or even an "I forgive you" from either of them. It was just an "I'm sorry." Those two words covered everything that Sam needed to hear. Yes, his father loved him. Yes, his father knew that _he_ was loved. John wanted him back, and now they had their clean slate.

Maybe he never knew who his father was, or maybe he never tried hard enough to find him. But now he had him. And he wasn't letting John go again.

But literally, of course, they had to let go sometime. Neither of them really knew how long the hug lasted, but no one was counting. And no one cared. When Sam pulled away from the hug – and _he_ let go first, which had never happened before to his knowledge – his father's eyes were wet and puffy. So were his, he thought. Hell, his were probably worse.

Dean was still standing in that same spot watching them with a look of complete astonishment, and seemed rooted to the spot. Dean's eyes were wet too, although he hadn't actually shed any tears. But the relief there was astounding. Sam never really cared to think about the whole ordeal from Dean's point of view before, but now that he thought about it Sam's reconciliation with John was one for Dean too. Hell, Sam had been raised by Dean just as much as he had been by John, and by John accepting Sam he was accepting Dean too. Sam knew how much he needed that.

And he knew what else he had to do.

Sam looked to Dean, and Dean looked to John, who looked back and then looked at Sam, who then returned Dean's stare again. Sam took a few steps towards his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder just because it felt right and leaning forward slightly to look his brother dead in the eyes. "You've never left me Dean…" Sam's voice was barely louder than a whisper, just a conversation between two brothers who had been through too much together. He squeezed Dean's shoulder slightly, and could have sworn that the first tear actually escaped the captivity of Dean's eyelashes and ran down his cheek. "Never. And I've left you too many times. I _promise_ you Dean… That was my last. It's not just dad I need to make it up too."

Dean shook his head a fraction of an inch back and forth. It wasn't really shaking his head, but he did it quite a few times. "No. Damnit Sam."

Before Sam could wonder what Dean meant, Dean put both his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Shut up." Dean's voice was just as quiet, although somehow it sounded huge to Sam's ears. "Don't you dare apologize to me, okay? I _let_ you leave us all those times. Hell," Dean was talking a bit louder now, and somehow Sam knew that he was speaking for John too. "We all did. But this time will be different. We aren't going to let you leave ever again whether you want too or not." Somehow Sam knew that he should raise his other arm to put on Dean's other shoulder, and now there was almost a wall of arms on either side between them and everything else.

"_I'm _not going to let you leave aging." Dean finished with a nod, but now he was back to the whispering. The Winchester brother's were almost secluded now, protecting each other from the harsh world outside. Really, they were too far away from each other for it to be considered a hug. In fact, Sam didn't really know what it was. All he knew was that he missed the feel of Dean's leather jacket and that maybe Dean felt the same way about his stupid brown hoodie. It was this, Sam realized, that family meant to him. An outstretched hand to help you up, a pat on the knee when you sit down together, the way you purposely bumped shoulders, elbows, feet and arms when you had the chance to piss them off and to say that you loved them all at the same time. That was family, and Sam had missed that. He had forgotten what a hug from his father felt like, or what Dean's eyes looked like when they weren't upset. This was how things were supposed to be.

No one hated chick flick moments more than the Winchesters, but somehow Sam didn't give a damn if he was crying of if his family was crying or if the whole world knew about it. He nodded towards his brother, choking back a sob and frowning at the ground. Dean started to do that thing where he tilted his head down so that he could look upwards at Sam, the way he did when he was about to say something important. But nothing came out of his mouth. And nothing had to. His eyes told the story on their own.

Sam was forgiven.

"Good…" Sam replied to Dean's statement with a huff. He wasn't sure why he was laughing. "Because if you want to tear me away from this family again, you're going to have to kill me."

It was said as a joke, but the whole room was quiet because they knew that Sam had meant it. John telling Dean he might have to kill Sam, Sam running away, John coming back from the dead… it all came down to this. And even though it was scary, Sam knew that the only way to face what was coming was to face it head on. And all three men knew what it could cost them in the end, but they wouldn't leave each other. Sam wasn't going to leave, even if that meant that John or Dean had to kill him in the future. If the vision came true.

Sam felt like he had cancer or something, that he had been given only a short time to live. But it wasn't a death sentence, not really. If this was going to happen, it would happen with the people who loved him. And that was good enough for now.

After a minute of silence, Bobby walked in to a triad of tearful Winchesters. And the reunion began again.

Outside of a dirty, un-used window, a woman in black watched the reunion between the man and his family in silence. Whilst inside the house there were tearful, exasperated embraces and snippets of apologies, outside of the house was dead silent. There were no apologies, no embraces, no tears. Her eyes were dry.

The woman was alone, and maybe rightfully so. They didn't belong with her, nor she with them. She dirtied their consciences, and they clouded her judgment. They made her too weak. _He _made her too weak. There was no need for emotion in a demon's heart, nor Sulphur on a human's pillowcase or rug. This way, they were all better off. And now that the man had his family back, things could go back to the way they were before she had come along. Things were better this way. For him and for her.

But as Ruby turned her back on the house, her feet crunching on dead leaves as she stalked off into the coming dawn, she couldn't help feeling that this happy ending was a humans-only occasion.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx**

**Like it? Hate it? I know you guys have been waiting for Sam to get back to his family, and I thought I had better deliver soon! And what about Ruby? You guys tell me that you like her in my story, so I wanted to take a risk with this chapter. Tell me your thoughts on this chapter below! I really really really want to know your opinions! You guys are awesome!**

**Update soon! :D 3**

**ArmagonAuthor**


	33. Chapter 33

It was with relief that Sam lugged his bags upstairs to one of Bobby's two spare rooms, where he dropped them in front of the old wooden dresser that Bobby had actually remembered to dust in what seemed like the first time in years. Dean hovered closely behind him, his hackles up so high that healthy big-brotherness was starting to turn into mothering. As if matters couldn't get any worse, he made his way past Sam to grab his pillow off the only bed in the room – Dean's bed – and toss it onto the cot across that had been haphazardly set up.

"But" –

"Don't, Sam." Dean plopped down onto the cot heavily. "I've seen the way your legs hang off the end of this thing, and we both know you outgrew it years ago. I'm not submitting my brother to any cruel and unusual punishment."

Sam sighed, knowing that he had lost but fighting for the sake of it. "Well… You're too big for it too."

Dean rested his head in his hands as if it weighed a hundred pounds. "What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. You know the drill…. Brother's code or whatever."

Sam couldn't resist a smirk. "Wow Dean, for a minute there I thought you were implying that we were married or something. What's mine is yours?"

"Very funny," Dean mumbled into his hands, before looking up through his fingers. "I didn't know you were a comedian, Sammy."

Sam sobered up a little bit, sinking eagerly into the flimsy mattress while observing his big brother. Dean was red-eyed, unshaven and looked about ten years older just from exhaustion. He was still rubbing his forehead with his hands, as if he could shove the migraine back in there and lock it up. Sam could tell that he was trying to put himself back together, but he was just too tired too. Dean hated for anyone to see him cry, and now he was having his regret moment. If Sam said anything, he knew he would just make it worse. Dean would know that Sam thought it was okay without having to say a word. "So… long day?"

Dean huffed. "You have no _friggen_ idea."

_I'll bet you cash or money that mine was worse…_ Sam was still running over the incident with Ruby in his mind. He distractedly pushed the toe of his boot into the heel of the other until it came off and repeated the process with the other foot, wincing as the movement jolted his knee. He probably looked like crap too.

Face serious, Dean's eyes crinkled around the corners. "How're you feeling, Sammy?"

_Right on que._

"I'm fine."

"You liar. It's only my _job_ to ask." Dean stood up to rifle though Sam's duffel – _what's mine is yours, after all_ – for God knows what. "But you look like you've been flatlined by the mother-ship and they're about to take you for their queen, so don't think I'm stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid Dean. It's just… I dono, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Dean turned around from the duffel with something in his hand that he didn't reveal. "Well you've had a pretty tough go lately," He shrugged sympathetically. "What with the stabbing and the heart-stopping, and the demon blood and the visions and now falling down a flight of stairs?"

"You're not wrong…" Sam fell back on the bed, his legs dangling precariously over the sides. The second he was horizontal, the sudden urge to sleep came on like a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes, retreating to his thoughts. Sam wasn't about to tell Dean the one thing he forgot… Ruby's assault. In fact, Sam had definite plans _never_ to tell Dean that one.

"Oh, no you don't. Come on man, it'll kill your side if you sleep like that." Suddenly Dean's voice was closer – mothering, Sam thought – and Sam squeezed his eyes tighter in protest. God, he was _exhausted_.

"Just le'me sleep, Dean."

Sam was expecting a fight, but there was none. Just the shift of weight on the mattress as Sam felt Dean sit down beside him. Confused after a few silent seconds that should have been filled with Deanisms, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean watching him with a sort of resigned uncertainty. "What?"

Dean looked away, shaking his head. "Nothing." He went to sit back up, but it wasn't far for Sam to reach out and grab the back of his shirt. Dean was forced to sit back down.

"Dude… _What_?"

Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking around the room to avoid Sam's eyes. "It's just… you know I meant what I said, right?"

"What, about me being too big for the cot?"

"No, not that" –

Sam smirked. "Or was it the part about me being crushed by the mother-ship?"

"_No,_ Sam!" Dean was watching the ground with fascination. "Dammit, I'm being serious here."

_Serious? Dean?_ Sam stopped immediately. The jokes were usually _required_ just to get Dean to open up in the first place. Since when did they make the process worse? "What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean shrugged for a minute, looking slightly embarrassed. Then he eventually gestured with a nod of his head towards the door. "What I said downstairs. You know… about sticking together and all. You know I didn't just say that for dad's sake, right?"

Sam nodded quietly, waiting for Dean to meat his eyes. "Of course, man. I know you meant it. What's this about?"

"Well it's just that…"Dean took a deep breath in and out, as if afraid of opening a can of worms that he couldn't control. " I know that lately you've had things pretty hard, and I know I've been a little distracted in my own problems…"

This wasn't making a lick of sense, but somehow Sam knew that it was his turn to speak. "You didn't do anything wrong, Dean."

"But I didn't do anything _right_, either. I mean…clearly I wasn't helping. If you would have gotten… whatever it is that you needed, you wouldn't have left in the first place."

Sam took it as he heard it, knowing that it was somewhat true. Sam knew he could count on Dean, but what with Dean going to and coming back from hell and the angels dropping in for regular tea time he didn't have much time for Sam. Even less so when John came around. Of course it wasn't really Dean's fault, but it was true. Even though Sam understood this, why Dean felt the need to voice it allowed didn't appear to him.

Dean took Sam's silence as a confirmation. "That's what I thought."

"Dean… I didn't say anything" –

"That's not the point, Sammy." Dean's eyes traveled up the antique dresser, across the books scattered across it and the old picture frames that had been left up since Bobby's wife had been alive. They were beautiful photos, but Sam could tell that they were making a better excuse than a distraction. Dean just didn't want to look at him. "The point is… I've been ignoring the signs here."

"What signs?"

"I mean… Things aren't like they used to be between us." Dean ignored Sam's interruption as if he hadn't spoken. "We've been stuck on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride way too long, Sam. It's been getting to me a lot more than I would have liked you to know, and I guess I took that as an excuse to ignore the fact that it was getting to you too. I just didn't realize how much…"Dean cut himself off from whatever he was going to say, his jaw tight. "When I saw that note of yours, I freaked. All you wrote was "Don't hate me." My first thought wasn't that that you ditched, it was that you'd gone and…"

Dean didn't finish his sentence, although he didn't need to. Suddenly his reaction to seeing Sam in the doorway made sense. _"Where the _hell_ have you been?"_

It felt like there was a spotlight on him. This time it was Sam avoiding Dean's eyes. "You thought… You thought I went and killed myself?"

Dean was quiet. Probably wishing he hadn't opened that can of worms after all. "…If the shoe fits."

"If the… Excuse me?!" Sam was on his feet faster than Dean seemed to expect, and suddenly his big brother seemed really short as he doubled back a few feet away. "What the hell is that supposed to" –

Dean jumped to his own feet, hands outstretched in the surrender position for the second time that night. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. That came out wrong."

If the look on his brother's face hadn't been completely helpless, Sam would have walked out then and there. He turned to face Dean angrily. "Than how was it _supposed_ to come out?"

"I…"Dean shrugged with his arms, looking defeated. " I don't know. But I didn't bring this up to make you mad, Sammy. It's my job to take care of you, and I just want to make sure that you're _okay_."

It was like someone was turning up the heat on the spotlight. Sam was just a bug under a microscope now. "Dean…"He took a deep breath to steady himself. " I don't want to end it. I don't. And that's not why I left, either. _Okay_?"

Dean walked forward slightly, looking like he was going to put his hand on Sam's shoulder, or hug him. Sam tried not to let the angry flush show to his cheeks. _Time to comfort the emo kid…_ God, this was just degrading. Did Dean just expect him to fall apart at the seams any second or something? No, maybe he hadn't been Mr. Happyface lately, maybe a friendly "Are you okay?" would have been welcome, but that didn't mean he needed daddy-kins to tuck into bed and make sure he was okay. Since when did Dean start thinking he was Sam's babysitter? _Take care of me?_ _I'm twenty-seven years old! I said I'm okay!_

Maybe whatever expression was on Sam's face just proved Dean's point, because even though Dean obviously saw the anger there he still reached out anyways. Sam pulled away quickly, Dean's fingernails scraping uselessly on his flannel shirt as a brotherly pat on the shoulder was rejected. "You should know…"Sam kept his voice steady, feeling his guilt meter rise. "That you have nothing to worry about. I know that you meant it."

And then he grabbed his stuff and made his way into the bathroom to change without another word, and if he would have stopped for a second to see what Dean had been holding this whole time he would have noticed that Dean had grabbed him his painkillers in a failed attempt to help out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dean?" A soft voice caught his attention, and Dean turned around to see Bela standing in the doorway, dressed in some cheep PJ's and looking like she too could use a little beauty sleep. She both looked and sounded nervous and out of place, her British accent clashing terribly with the penguin-clad pants she was wearing. "There's… uh… There's someone downstairs for you."

"What?" Marching forward angrily, Dean lowered his voice to hunter-appropriate volume. "Did he see you?"

Bela shook her head tiredly, her eyes wide. "Well, of course. It's…"For a minute, she seemed too shocked to say it. "It's Castiel. The _angel_."

As if Dean didn't know what Cas was already.

Bela pointed to the floorboards as if Dean could see through them, looking much more awed and childish than he had _ever_ seen her. Like a little British kid who had just been told that there was no such thing as Santa. "He's _downstairs_."

Sighing, Dean made his way into the hallway. "Yeah, yeah… you said that already..."Once Dean made his way onto the main floor, he hesitated when he saw the dark living room. John was standing behind the couch, leaning over it like he was bracing himself for something unpleasant, while Castiel sat stiffly-yet-calmly on the other one facing the stairwell, his face grim. John looked up towards the two with trepidation.

"Cas, what is it?" Dean made it as far as the coffee table, Bela hot on his heals, before he forced himself to stop. Bela actually sat down on the couch across from Cas, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. John sighed. "_Cas_?"

"We were waiting for you," Castiel looked to the other two as if they had any clue what was going on, and then nodded softly in Dean's direction. "There is something that you three need to know, and I felt that it was best you all heard it in person."

John and Dean traded worried looks, and Bela cleared her throat as the tension in this room grew. As if they didn't know what all three of them had in common…

"Well, spit it out already." Bela broke the silence, sounding almost anxious. "If you're going to say it, you might as well say it now."

Castiel sighed, a very human movement compared to his usual robot-self. "You aren't going to like it."

John huffed. "Well we aren't going to have much of an option whether we hear it or not, now are we?" He seemed angry, but his hands were tight on the back of the couch in nervousness. "You heard Bela. What is it?"

"Very well." Cas nodded to John solemnly, before meeting Dean's eyes again. It would have been creepy, if he hadn't been used to it by now. "Well there's a reason, as I'm sure you know, why the three of you are here."

_Here._ As in on earth. As in not in hell. God, angels could be so…..

"Yeah…"Dean's voice sounded rough and grumpy, even to him. " We figured that part. And why exactly _are_ we here, again?"

Castiel didn't break eye contact, like a human would, and eventually Dean was the one who had too.

"Well like I said… You aren't going to like it."

I know, I know… this was really short. But the last chapter was really long, so hopefully you guys can cut me some slack. I'm into some pretty heavy schoolwork right now, and I went and got carpal tunnel again. Writing can be painstaking in more ways than one lol.

**So thanks for being so awesome, I will update soon. What did you like, what do you wish to see more of?**

**In response to some anonymous reviews, I **_**will**_** be including more Dean-centric plotline soon. Just wait and see.**

**THE REVIEW BUTTON IS WHERE?? RIGHT HERE!**


	34. Chapter 34

If it was at all possible, the room became quieter than before. Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other and crossed his arms in front of his chest, awkward in the stillness. "Well no offense Cas, but none of your visits have been particularily pleasant. You heard Bela… Let's get it over with."

"Well first of all," Castiel turned to John and Bela's side of the room. "You must understand our situation. Lilith's progress has been moving rapidly, and we are getting quite worried. The seals are being broken faster than we can defend."

Bela looked up immediately, recognizing a name that she already knew. "Lilith is breaking… seals?"

Castiel nodded, meeting Bela's eyes with what was probably a very intense stare. "We think of the seals as locks on a door…"

_Oh God, not this again…_

"And in order for each one to be broken, something specific must occur. If sixty-six seals are broken than Lucifer breaks out of his cage, so to speak." Cas looked to Dean, as if hoping for a more human explanation. Luckily he didn't have to.

"So you mean Lucifer as in… Lucifer the devil?" John raised an eyebrow skeptically, his voice guarded. "_The_ devil?"

"Yes, that is another name for him." Castiel moved his eyes back to Dean, almost like he was the default setting. "Lucifer is my brother."

Now _that_ was a new one. Dean almost jumped in surprise. "He's… _what_?"

Everyone else's surprise was apparent also. But Castiel didn't give them time to speak up. "Lucifer was an archangel. He disobeyed our father's orders and fell from grace. He was sent to hell, where he turned his human followers into demons. If…" Cas frowned. "If Lucifer is released, he will bring war upon heaven. No matter which side wins, those on earth will suffer. Billions of people will die. You would know it as the apocalypse."

John shook his head, leaning foreword on his elbows almost angrily. "But surely there must be _something_ you can do to stop it! You're angels!"

Voice almost text-book accurate when he next spoke. "'That which is above is the same as that which is below.'… Heaven and Hell are equally balanced, and right now the cards are falling in their favor. Lilith is a very old and very powerful demon. We have neither the numbers nor the means to dispose of her. Which brings me to the reason for our meeting."

John leaned back into the folds of the couch, and Bela wrapped her arms around herself defensively. Dean leaned forwards against the couch where his dad sat, gripping the back tightly. They were all prepared for the bomb to drop.

"Lucifer had many demons loyal to him," Castiel continued. "Azazel, Lilith, Beezlebub, Crawley, Samhain. A few of them have been eliminated over time. Beezlebub was killed by Samuel Colt, Dean killed Azazel, Sam killed Samhain. Those are only a few. Crawley has yet to come out of the woodwork, and for the meantime he is not a threat. Right now we have Lilith to worry about. In order to get to her, my superiors tell me that the best way to do this is to eliminate her followers. The priority right now is Alistair."

The room went silent. It was like everyone was afraid to move for fear of being noticed. Of course, Dean hadn't talked about hell with dad. Neither of them asked, and neither of them told. And the same went for Bela, obviously. They weren't even friends.

So of course… there was no way to know if dad or Bela even knew who Alistair was. Maybe Dean was the only one who had had the indecency of meeting him in hell. Maybe they had met someone else. Their silence could have just been confusion.

Or not.

So Dean just stood there stiffly, afraid to move a muscle, waiting for someone else to ask the first question.

"I just _got_ here," John's voice seemed quite loud in the static atmosphere around them. "My boy just got home… We aren't in any place to be hunting right now. Find someone else…" Indignantly he rose to his feet and continued around the couch – not without a glare in Castiel's direction – and gave Dean a look which said to follow. Dean held back however.

"But you don't want us to hunt him…" Dean met the angel's eyes in hope that he would get the answer there. "Do you?"

Castiel shook his head from side to side slowly. "No."

John turned around, looking flabbergasted. "Well than what" – He threw his hands up in the air. "What _exactly _is it that you want from us?"

Bela's face was almost blank, but her hands were tightly clenched in her lap. She didn't meet anyone's eyes.

They were afraid. They were all afraid. Hell, Dean didn't want to know the answer either. But someone had to ask.

"Look Cas, I know you don't want to be here." Dean leaned across the back of the couch, gesturing around the room with a hand. "But neither do _we_, alright? So why don't you just do us all a favor and get it over with? Then you can get off home and tell your little Sunday-school buddies that you did your job. I'd rather not be here all night."

Cas sighed, sweeping the room with his eyes and then falling back on Dean again. "No, we don't want you to hunt him. We aren't planning on killing him yet. First, we need to catch him."

Bela huffed, looking upwards for the first time that night. "Oh of course," she sighed sarcastically. "We'll just stroll back into hell and invite him into our little angel-party. That sounds just _splendid_!"

"He isn't _in _hell …"

"Dean's right," Cas nodded in Bela's direction. "We believe that Alistair is in Asia. But that's irrelevant. We don't need you to fetch him for us, we know how to do that on our own. There is a ritual that will bring him right to us… With your help."

"With our…" Dean ran a hand absentmindedly over his spiky hair, leaning on his elbows. " You've got to be kidding me, Cas."

The angel raised an eyebrow. "You know I am not one to kid often, Dean."

"At least tell me one thing…" Dean looked back up tiredly. "Why us?"

The angel's eyes were sympathetic. "You know why."

Bela stood up also, her arms crossed in front of her chest defensively. "You know what, I'm not agreeing to this." She went in the same direction as John, rudely bumping Castiel on her way out. "Screw you and your crazy orders."  
Dean caught her by the arm gently, wincing when he felt how cold she was. "Yes, they _can_." He couldn't help glowering at Castiel, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "Cas's friends really want this, don't they?"

The angel nodded grimly. "My superiors tell me that this is necessary."

Dean let go of Bela's arm, and she spun around to face the angel again. For a minute she stood there, out of breath. "What would we have to do?"

"You will be given everything you need. The ritual would require a minimal amount of danger on your part. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but it needs to be done. In order to stop Lilith, we believe that we first need to get to Alistair."

For the first time in a long time, John spoke up. He sounded both angry and afraid. "…And what are you going to do with him after you have him?"

Dean was somewhat relieved that he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Was this a chance at revenge? Did he even want it?

As if reading his thoughts, Castiel met Dean's eyes before moving to John's. "We are going to get him to tell us what we need to know."

"He won't talk."

Castiel shrugged, looking about as cold as Dean had ever seen him. "He won't have a choice." The room was silent again, and after a long pause, Castiel surveyed the room with a quiet formality. "Uriel and I will come for you tomorrow, some time before midnight. Be ready."

Dean couldn't help the sense of panic that was creeping over him, cutting off his breath. He looked over to his friend in dismay. "Cas, wait a sec" –

But the angel was gone.


	35. Chapter 35

If it was at all possible to cut the atmosphere in half, Dean was certain that this would have been the perfect setting to demonstrate. The tension was literally so thick in the room that it felt like one motion, word or breath could disturb some cosmic balance, setting time and space off-kilter. There was a heavy silence in the room, as everyone's eyes remained glued to the spot where the angel had disappeared right before their eyes. It was like he was still there, in a way, and his space in the room was still filled up by some unknown force that drew their attention. Dean had seen Castiel's tricks before, but what drew his eyes this time was the ominous foreshadowing of what Castiel had told them. And in a way, what Castiel had told _him_. And it was too much. Breaking the strings that held them all in place for the first time, Dean pulled away from his perch on the couch and turned his back on the room, stopping only to put his boots on as he marched out the front door and into the cold outside.

John watched his eldest walk off with a pang of regret, Dean's absence in the room more disheartening then his disturbance of its peace by leaving. Of course, Dean's leaving made perfect sense. Too much sense, actually. _"Why us?" "You know why."_ It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Dean knew why. So there. And that meant everything. John just couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it before. Every clue, every piece of obvious reality had been in front of him, and he had simply ignored it. But now, there was no denying the truth. And no, it wasn't going to set him free. Damn that old expression. What did poets know? With trepidation in his footsteps, John took the brave march to the front door. He slipped his feet into his boots, and pulled his jacket over his shoulders – despite his wishes, he wasn't as young as he used to be – and eased himself out the doorway with caution. Maybe he should have expected that the Impala would be missing, but he didn't. Just like everything else about his sons lately, Dean's decisions were a mystery. So with nowhere else to go, and without the desire to go back inside and face everyone inside, John headed out into the salvage yard.

Bela didn't move as one by one, the room left. The angel disappeared in what would have been an impressive display of his powers, would she have been an appropriate mood to notice, Dean had stormed off without a glance backwards, John had gone after him apologetically, and Bela had been left alone. Again. No angel stopped to give her a look of comfort. No father followed her to make sure that she was alright. No brother waited upstairs to share a bedroom. No uncle slept soundly in the knowledge that she was keeping his house safe. There was nobody at all who would care if she left, who wouldn't feel that they were better off if she never came back, or if she had never come back in the first place. But it wasn't to anyone's surprise that this was all her fault. Maybe if she had been a better daughter, if she had been somehow prettier, smarter, kinder, stronger, more obedient, then her parents would have loved her. Maybe if she had been able to suck it up and love them for who they were, then she wouldn't have had to sell her soul. Maybe if she had donated the money to charity, or gotten therapy, or let someone get close enough to love her, then she wouldn't have gone to hell without someone to miss her. But Bela wasn't stupid. She knew what she had done, and what she had deserved. And that even after she paid her debts, that nobody gave a damn. Not even the angel who pulled her out, or the people who had shared her fate.

With no company but her thoughts, Bela bent her head and wept. Because she did give a damn.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom with his satchel in hand and tossed it in the general direction of his suitcase to land with a thump three feet away. It was with a selfish pleasure that he realized that the room was empty, and he wouldn't have to face Dean's judging stare again. His tongue ran over his teeth in satisfaction of the clean feeling that brushing brought, but his mind wasn't satisfied. Even though on some level he was aware that Dean hadn't meant any harm, his words still stung more than Sam would have liked to admit.

_"My first thought wasn't that you ditched, it was that you'd gone and…"_

_ "You thought I went and killed myself?"_

_ "If the shoe fits."_

And what _was_ that supposed to mean, anyways? Even after all the backtracking Dean had tried to do to pretend that he hadn't said it, it had to mean something. Or else he wouldn't have said it. So what shoe was Sam supposed to fit into? If Dean thought that Sam fit into this role, then that meant that Dean thought that Sam was suicidal. Nothing else made sense. There was nothing that got Dean's haunches up that much, except knowing that Sam was in grave danger. And while Sam couldn't help thinking that this reflex got Dean into more harm then himself good, he knew that Dean couldn't help it. So Dean wanted to protect him… fine. He could understand that. It wasn't like he didn't want to protect Dean too. But he knew that, unlike himself, it was hard for Dean to admit that he needed help. Sam would nudge Dean to talk about his feelings when he time called for it, but he knew better than to push Dean where he couldn't go. He pushed Dean when he made the deal, and he pretended that he wasn't scared. And he pushed Dean when he got back from hell, and he pretended that he wasn't terrified. Dean was never very pleasant when Sam pushed, but they both knew that he needed it and eventually would let Sam in. Unlike Dean, Sam didn't need to be pushed often. When Sam became obsessed with killing the yellow-eyed demon, even if it killed him. Or when he wouldn't stop trying to get Dean out of the deal, even if it killed him. Or now, trying to kill Lilith, even if it –

Okay, maybe Sam did seem a _little_ die-hard for hunting sometimes. But so what? That was just being good at his job. He was just aware of the fact that some things were worth dying for. But that didn't mean he _wanted_ to die. It wasn't being obsessive, just… putting priorities in order. He didn't want to die.

And Dean was being a hypocrite, anyways. He was the one who had been wiling to die to get dad back, who had died to get Sam back. He was the one who had told Sam that he was "sick of this life" after John's death, and had quoted nearly the same thing after Sam confronted him about making the deal. Sam had never held that against him, never shoved that in his face when his guard was down.

It wasn't like Sam was self-harming or anything, he thought grudgingly. He'd never, _ever_ cut or anything like that. And he wasn't on drugs, nor was he a compulsive drinker. He'd never tried to end it before. So what was Dean's problem? Sam had never even _thought _about it before.

_Well maybe once… Right after Jess died._ Sam shrugged. But that didn't really count, and he'd never acted on it anyways. _And after Dean had died and gone to hell._ Okay, that was twice. _But still…_

_"The point is, I've been ignoring the signs here."_

What signs? There were no signs. Even after everything that he had gone through, the glass was more or less half full. Every messed-up hunt was a lesson learned. Every injury made him stronger. Every person that he had loved and lost was in a better place now. He had wasted four years and sixteen thousand dollars worth of grants on a Stanford education for a Law degree that never came, but at least he knew how to research anything and everything that they would need for a hunt. And he could type it all at one-hundred and seventy words-per-minute too. So it wasn't all that bad. And when it got tough, he had learned how to cope. How to work under pressure, keep going when there was nothing left. Jess dying, Dean and John going to hell, the demon-blood, it was horrible but it, uh, taught him to appreciate things when you still had them. And to appreciate them even _more_ when you got them back. Life had given him… Lessons, or whatever. Helped him grow up….

_Screw it._ The glass wasn't half-full. The damn thing was so empty that it was already in the back of the dishwasher behind the crock-pot and the old wooden spoons that nobody ever used.

And all of a sudden an opening in Sam's pity-party realization finally opened, and he heard it. Someone was crying. This in itself was confusing to Sam, but the fact that the feminine sniffles and sobs that were being poorly muffled downstairs did not belong to one of the many men in this household was obvious in itself. There was a _woman_ downstairs. A _crying_ woman. What. The. Hell.

_Oh…_ Sam's mind caught up with him, and with a jolt he remembered. _Bela._ He remembered that Dean had mentioned something about that, when they were climbing up the stairs to their room, but somehow it had gone in one ear and out the other. He had just had the epiphany-of-a-lifetime talk with his brother and father, not to mention the fact that he was tired and sore all over. But now that he was feeling a bit better after the shower – more tired, less sore – his mind started to backtrack to that a little bit. Was this real? Dean had explained briefly something about Castiel bringing her back, but that too hadn't really registered. So Cas was bringing up more souls from hell? Why did he start up again now? And why the heck did Bela come _here_ if she did get out? Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, Sam quietly crept from the room and onto the stairs.

He walked as lightly as he could onto the steps, praying that his weight wouldn't cause a creak in Bobby's old floorboards. He was still limping, but if he turned to the side a bit he didn't even have to bend his leg. As awful as the thought was, Sam couldn't wait to tear her up one. Stealing from them, shooting him, manipulating them… that was all one thing. But she stole the colt. The _one_ thing that could have kept Dean from going into the pit, and she stole it in cold blood and sold it. The bitch practically sent Dean packing herself. And she had the nerve to come _here _of all places? After everything she had done? Sam couldn't believe that they had even let her stay here. If it had been his decision, she would have been out on the street –

A loud creak sounded out into the night. Bela started, her eyes darting up to the stairs with such urgency that she might have been afraid. Sam's mouth opened, about to ask what the hell she was doing here, but the second he met her eyes he froze. Suddenly it was May of last year, and Dean was looking at a clock that read midnight with panic in his eyes. And it was November, and Dean was talking as quiet as he could so that the passers-by on the bridge with them wouldn't hear as he tried to explain to Sam what had happened in hell. And the look in his eyes both those times… It still gave him nightmares.

And seeing that same look in the eyes of a woman that he hated – no, despised – was enough to let him know that the nightmares were going to be coming back for a long time.

Bela didn't move, her eyes locked with the man in front of her in a staring contest that she hadn't expected to be making. Sam showing up was surprise, and the look on his face resembled a deer caught in the headlights so much that she felt slightly less of one. They were both frozen for a minute longer in their current positions – Sam with his feet on separate stairs with his hand inches away from being on the railing, and Bela with her hands wrapped around herself like she was cold as ice – until the silence got deafening. Bela realized that she would be the one to recover first, and moved her arms so that they were instead crossed in front of her chest. "Well, the prodigal son returns."

The spell was broken. Sam was able to continue his journey down the stairs again, watching her cautiously. "So it's true."

"What? You boys finally came out of the closet? I always knew you were a little too close." The old defensive-smirk was back, before Bela even knew it was there. She knew that she should at least try to be nice, but at the same time was embarrassed to notice that she didn't know how.

Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the wall, his face as close to a Dean-ism as she had ever seen it. But at the same time, he seemed amused. And still cautious. "You're back." Bela felt a warm flush begin to creep up into her face, first of all because a Winchester had seen her cry, and second of all because he was prone to stating the obvious. Which she didn't need right now. "What can I say?" She shrugged, faking nonchalance. "The party doesn't start until I get here. I figured you guys could use a treat."

Expression now blank enough that it was starting to make Bela awkward, Sam took a few steps across the room – with a limp, she couldn't help but notice – and grab a box of tissues from a TV tray on the other side of the couch. He tossed it to her. "Remember being ten? The snail trail always gives you away."

While Bela knew that the sentiment was supposed to be a kind one, she had no clue what had just been said to her. The corner of Sam's mouth went up for a minute, and he gestured to her pajamas. "Wiping your nose on your sleeve leaves little lines. It's called the" –

"Snail trial." Bela interrupted, one eyebrow unwillingly rising at the attempt at a joke. "Makes sense now."

Sam huffed, and took a seat on the couch across from her. "Maybe it's 'cause you're British. I thought everybody knew what it meant."

Bela held onto the box of tissues tightly, knowing what he meant by the gift of it, trying to get her mouth to utter one little world. _Thanks._ _Just say it. Thanks! _ Instead, she cleared her throat. "So what happened to your leg?"

Sam looked up at her funny, as if that was the last thing he had been expecting. "Oh. I, uh, I just hurt it a few days ago. It should be fine in a week or so. Nothing major."

It probably wasn't, Bela realized. Hunters got hurt all the time. And by the way Sam was sitting, favoring his left side, he was likely hiding more injuries than his leg. She remembered shooting him in the shoulder, the look on his face afterwards. Back when they had still been strangers, and he was shorter-haired, skinnier, more outwardly nervous and fine with being a follower. And even though Bela barely knew Sam, she could tell that a year had aged him quite a bit. Harder. Stronger. Smarter. Tougher. Someone you could be afraid of. Not that he was trying, right now.

Sam's eyes scanned the room for a second, went back to hers, scanned the room again, and then he sighed. Trying to be nice to someone you hated was hard, wasn't it? So why was he trying? "Where is everybody?"

So that explained why Sam had come downstairs. To find out where daddy and big brother had gone off to. Bela clenched her jaw for a minute, reminded of the altercation with the angel that had shaken the room but a few minutes ago. She couldn't help wondering how much Sam knew about his family. What they had gone through. "Your angel friend came over for a visit," Bela knew that she might as well look truthful, because he would know about that eventually. "Dean left. Your dad went after him. I haven't seen Bobby since he went to bed."

That was a whole lot of nothing, and Sam knew it. The questions seemed to filter through his head like lottery tickets, and he was waiting to pick out which one to read first. Bela guessed Dean, and she was right. Sam looked up. "Why did Dean leave?"

The tone of his voice spoke volumes. That question in itself was snooping, but it hinted at so many others that surely were under the surface. Was Dean hurt? Upset? Was he coming back? And when? God, she hoped Dean realized what he had going for him. Dad hurries after you. Little brother dotes over you. Angel wants to be your best friend forever. Why couldn't she have a tiny slice of that?

The question remained unanswered too late, and Sam nodded at the silence. "Do you know what Cas said to him?"

Damn. That was about as forward as you could get. Either Bela could be made a lair, or a gossip. "Um…" She sniffled nervously. "I'd rather not say."

The second that the words left her mouth, Bela regretted them. Sam's eyes widened slightly as he connected the dots. He clearly knew what Bela and Dean had in common, what would make them both upset, and what the angel had to do with it, because he stood up too quickly to be subtle. "Bathroom break," he muttered. Somehow that took him out the front door. And Bela could connect the dots too.

Sam hesitated on the front step when he realized that Dean's car wasn't in the lot. He stood outside in the cold for a minute, but then when he realized that he couldn't will them to come back he went back inside and found his sleeping pills. It had been a long night.

**Wow guys, as always you are so awesome to me. So even though it is 1:19 AM on Boxing Day here, it is still Christmas Day in some parts of the world… So Merry Christmas! I wanted to give you guys a gift, and here it is. I hope you like it. Please, Please, PLEASE review. I know you all had different expectations of my bringing Bela into the story, so please tell me how that's going. And what about the rest of the chapter? Feedback is so nice to hear. Please make my day! **


	36. Chapter 36

When Sam slinked back in through the front door within 30 seconds of exiting it, and hurried upstairs without even tossing her a sideways glace, Bela knew that it was bad. Either the family sent him away, or they weren't even there at all. Considering how Dean always had a car parked outside, the second option sounded better. Hell, Bella knew that she would leave if she had the chance. But still… it was troubling to see the Winchester brothers at odds about anything, let alone being in separate rooms of each other. But Sam had changed a lot in the past year, and she figured that Dean would have too. Going to hell did that to a person.

Maybe, Bela couldn't help wondering, that was why she had come here in the first place. Calling Bobby Singer meant calling the Winchester brother's, but she had been prepared for that. In fact, she had been expecting a whole lot worse treatment than what she had gotten, not that she would be surprised if it started up now. But they were the first people she could think of to contact for help. Funny how life turns out, when you have a laundry list of contacts and yet you don't trust any of them. Funnier still, that the Winchesters of all people were the ones who she felt she _could_ trust. But then again, they had never backstabbed her in return to all the things she had done to them. Bela never understood why Dean hadn't killed her that night, when he came for the colt. He was close. But maybe she would never know. And still, she didn't feel like they were potting their much-earned revenge any time soon. This place – these people, more specifically – had drawn her in like a magnet. She knew that they were still alive. Even Dean. It was illogical, but she just knew it.

Then again, there was nothing to say that her meeting up with Dean wasn't caused by a little divine influence on the count of their little angel friend Castiel so that they could complete the ritual tomorrow night together. Bela knew that if she was to pull three people from the pit who needed to work together, she would program them to seek each other out. It made sense.

Or it could just have been her. That was always a better thought. Bela preferred to be in charge of her own destiny. It was better than being a dog on the leash of heaven's payroll.

No matter _who_ had brought them all together, the important thing was _why_. According to Castiel, they all had to be active participants in the ritual that would catch Alistair, and that even though they would be perfectly safe – and how could he guarantee that anyways? – they didn't have a choice in whether they contributed to the act or how. Bela couldn't help feeling that she could represent all three of them in thinking that she _really_ did not want to do this. At all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So sick of waiting for the hot-wired car to rev up, when John saw the spark of wires in his hands he almost jumped in surprise. _God, am I really_ that_ out of practice?_ Letting go of the wires, he slid into the old car and did up his seatbelt – after getting t-boned by a semi once already, John knew not to dabble with these things – and skidded out of Bobby's yard and onto the highway.

He needed to find Dean. It was obvious that the boy didn't want to be found, but he should've known that John would chase after him regardless. Even if he let the little things slide, this was a different story. This was hell they were talking about. His _son_ in hell. Whether Dean admitted it or not, he needed his father. _John_ needed _him_.

Once he got into town, John let go on the throttle a little bit and coasted down an empty main street. If he were Dean, where would he go? Looking at the buildings around him, John let his eyes linger on a strip-mall on his right that was bathed in near darkness, save for the light of a few streetlamps. When he caught sight of a tavern sign, he pulled in front of another car so that he could turn right into the parking lot. He looped around until he found a spot, and pulled in lazily. Without a key – and knowing that he wouldn't be able to restart the car very well if he shut it off – John left the car running. He jogged across the lot until he got close enough to slow down, and when he got to the doors he slipped inside quietly.

A master of appearances, for once John really couldn't care how much attention or lack thereof he got while he stood in the doorway and scanned the surrounding people for sight of Dean. There were lots of people Dean's height, a few men with spiky hair, and plenty of leather jackets to go around, but it was obvious that none of them were whom he was looking for. That much was obvious in a few seconds. Disappointed, John made his way towards a young woman who was cleaning glasses behind the bar. She was blonde, curvy, and had a top that was way too small to be comfortable, and Dean would have been all over her if he was here. The woman looked up at John when he leaned against the bar, and he couldn't help suppressing a shudder when he noticed her eyes scanning him.

"What do you want, dear?" She cooed at him in a slightly southern drawl accented in a very feminine tone and leaned against the bar herself, showing way too much _of_ herself in the process. John kept his eyes on her face, disappointed at how many young women just like this would hit on men that were old enough to be their fathers. _Sorry hun, _so_ not interested. _

"Um, I'm just looking for someone who might have been in here." John saw the woman's face fall as he said it.

"Oh." It was clear that she had taken it the wrong way, although John was fine with that. "Well, what's she look like?"

John laughed. "No, it's not like that. I'm looking for my son. He's about six feet, spiky hair, leather jacket."

The girl gave a slight nod, her face blank. Not like she hadn't seen enough of those guys, right?

"Probably hit on you a few times?"

Same look. Okay, lots of _those_ guys in here too then. The girl bit the side of her lip, looking bored. "Um, is he cute?"

"So I'm told." It was damn hard not to roll his eyes, but somehow John managed it. "Look, his name is Dean. Do you remember him, or not?"

At the mention of a name, the girl's face immediately brightened. "Oh yeah, Dean? We talked for a bit. Real nice guy. I gave him my number and all, and we chatted for a bit about" –

"When did he leave?" John cut her off then and there. _I don't care if you talked about kittens. _Still_ don't want to know._ "Can you think of another bar he might have gone to?"

"Um… maybe three-thirty?" Britney Spears' head tilted to the side. "Somewhere around there. And if he went to another bar, it's probably the Crossroads."

"The _Crossroads_?" _How ironic._

She nodded. "Yeah. Nice place. It's up on the corner third and fifth."

"Alright, thanks." John pushed away from the bar and headed out to the door, not bothering to pass a glance behind him and see the reaction that he had on Miss America back there. In fact, he probably didn't want to know. He had better things to worry about then gold-digging bartenders who were barely old enough to drink as it was. He had to find Dean.

Jumping back into the car – which had warmed up since he had left it out – John skidded out and back into the night.

Pulling into yet another parking lot, John left the car running again and let himself into the bar without much patience. This bar was slightly darker, but much cleaner and didn't have an overpowering stink of cigarettes, like the other one. But none of that was important, as long as he found Dean. Scanning this room in search of his son, his eyes quickly fell on a raised leather collar slouched over a counter across the room.

John approached slowly, for once realizing that he had no clue what to say. He didn't really know what had happened in the pit as far as Dean was concerned, but he knew that Dean wouldn't exactly be riling to talk about whatever _did_ happen down there. John could understand that.

Gesturing to the woman behind the counter – this one actually looking old enough to have kids – John quietly ordered. "Scotch. Double. Hold the ice, please."

"Sure thing, sugar." The woman smiled at him warmly, raising a hand to show that she had heard him, and quickly finished drying off a glass. She kind of reminded him of Ellen, in that motherly way.

Dean looked up in numbed surprise at seeing John sit down beside him, although he quickly went back to his drink. In the warm light of a few hanging lamps, the tear tracks on his face were muted. He looked the other way for a moment, running a hand "casually" over his face to try and wipe them off. The sight nearly broke John's heart. "What, you here to make sure I don't drink and drive?" Dean's voice sounded rough too. "I still remember the lecture, dad."

John took his drink from the bartender with a passing smile, although he only had eyes for Dean. Setting his drink down on the table carefully, he took a minute to watch his son and hope that the right words would come to him. "Dean…"

"Don't."

He felt helpless, like an actor who didn't know his lines stuck on the stage without a script. "I… I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean's eyebrows pulled down into a frown, and after a few seconds he stopped to give John a quizzical look. "You're _sorry_?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

Wasn't it obvious? "For…" John strained his mind, not because he didn't know what he was sorry for, but because he didn't know how to verbalize it. "For everything. I should've – I never – I… I never would have done it if I'd known that you were going to go and do it too."

Dean took a swig of his drink, and swirled it around in the glass for a moment before answering. "Make a deal, you mean?" He asked it quietly, although there was a certain detached tone to his voice that said that he wasn't willing to get emotional.

Nodding softly, John watched the dark liquid in Dean's glass spiral around. "I always wanted to protect you, Dean. I know I wasn't very good at it, but I still tried. You… You never really seemed like you needed it, you know? You were always so mature, you never complained or seemed afraid of anything. I guess at some point I stopped treating you like a kid and forgot that you needed to be taken care of too."

"But I _was _afraid." Dean was still watching his drink and keeping his tone even, although John saw that his hand was shaking slightly. "I was afraid of a lot of things, dad. Ghosts, and wendigos, and those changelings that we fought when I was in middle school. And I was afraid that I wouldn't graduate from high school – which I _didn't_ – and that Sam would really go and leave us to get some fancy education… Which he _did_, by the way."

There was no way that John could deny that he knew the words were true, and that he had known them all along. Of course Dean was afraid. He was just a kid. John was damn near terrified of these things when he had his wits about him, and yet he expected his sons to have superpowers of bravery? It didn't make sense.

"The three of us," Dean continued his lecture slowly, still watching his drink slosh around. "That was all I ever had. And then it was just the two of us, and then you just went and…" Moving a hand through the air to symbolize how John had left, he blew out a puff of breath through his cheeks. "Why do you think I went and got Sam from school, huh? You didn't even _call_ me."

Frowning, John watched his son gulp down the rest of his drink and order another. "That's what I'm talking about," John mumbled in reply. "Since I got back I've been thinking, and I know I wasn't… I know I wasn't there for you like I should've been. And I thought that by making the deal I would be protecting you, giving you another chance, but I was wrong. Wasn't I?"

Beside him, Dean almost choked on his drink. Maybe he hadn't been expecting the question, but if he had it didn't show. Facing front for a minute more, he carefully finished his mouthful of alcohol and swallowed a few more times then what was necessary. When he did look back, his eyes scanned the counter for a few seconds before finally meeting John's for a split second. He had his game face on. "So what then, dad?" His voice was angry. "Is this the part where you tell me that it wasn't worth it?"

John felt his stomach drop. "I didn't say that!"

Dean just huffed, and went back to his drink.

"I didn't!" John grabbed his son by the shoulder, spinning him around to face him. "Don't put words in my mouth, boy! I just…" He took a deep breath, slowing himself down. If he jumped the gun and let his temper go, he would never get through to Dean. "I just want to understand what went wrong here between you and me. I was a good father once, believe it or not. And I don't even know _when_ I stopped being one, but all I know is that _this,_" – He moved his hand back and forth between the two of them as a gesture. "Was not supposed to happen. I never would've wanted that for you, Dean. I _never_ wanted you to go to hell!"

"I know…" Eyes down low, Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times. "But Sam" –

"He died, I know. But that didn't mean that _you_ had to die too."

"But it was my job!" Dean hissed quietly over his drink. "I had to look after him, and I failed. So what if I made the deal, then? _You _did!"

"I know…" John put a cautious hand on his son's shoulder, regardless of who was watching. "I know. And I'd do it again."

Finally starting to break down, Dean shook his head slowly, looking at the ground. "You don't mean that. Not after" –

"Yes, I do." John squeezed Dean's shoulder hard, causing the young man to flinch slightly. "I mean it."

"But – But – _Why_?" Looking up for the first time, Dean looked exasperated. "I'm not… I don't deserve it. Not after…"

"Not after what, son?" John felt his own voice cracking up, struggling to stay calm when his son was in such distress.

Dean just shook his head, looking back at the dirty countertop.

"Dean?"

"I can't."

"Please," John begged, desperate to keep Dean from closing up on him again. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

"You know…" Dean moved his empty glass in careful circles on the grain of the hardwood, head so low that he was almost hunched over. "You know what he would ask us? At the… at the end of it, I mean?"

John's heart seemed to want to fall out of his chest. How could he forget? Even though he knew that it was likely that Alistair had also traded those words with Dean, it cut him to the core anyways. That son of a bitch wasn't getting much older than tonight, he knew for sure. "Yeah…" His voice was rough.

"Well I couldn't… After… I…" Dean bit his lip. "I said yes."

It hurt. Worse than Mary dying, worse than Sam leaving, it hurt. He had lost his son. Even if he was back here now, in the flesh, he had lost him. And he hadn't been there to stop it. "Dean…" His son huffed tiredly. "Was it still worth it then?"

"Dean, look at me!" With his hand already on Dean's shoulder, it wasn't hard to spin him around to face him again. He could almost feel his son's pain through the physical contact, as if they shared it together. He could feel Dean's sadness, his disappointment. And John could understand it. "I know you, alright. I know _you_. Who you really are. And will _not_ say that I'd take anything back, because I am _not_ disappointed in you. You understand me? It _was_ worth it, because you are my son. And I love you."

After a little prodding, Dean finally brought his eyes up again. They were swimming in salt water. "But…"

"No!" John put his other hand on the free shoulder, keeping Dean's eyes on him. "This here, now, this is what matters. And we can not let him win. Because if we let him take away anything more than he's taken already, including our happiness, he has won. He can't take that from us if we stick together. And I will _not _let than happen."  
One of the salt-water tears broke free, creating another line down Dean's face.

We have a second chance up here, Dean. We've got angels on our side, and we have a second chance to make things right. Tomorrow, we are going to catch that son of a bitch. But more than that, this time around, we can't let him win. Even in our heads. I need you to be a part of this family." John heard his own voice get nasally, and knew that there must be tears on his own face as well." Remember what you said before? The three of us. You, and me, and Sam. We can do it right this time. Can I count on you to do that, Dean?"

If anything, John Winchester knew that his son would always rise to a challenge. "Yes sir…" He cleared his throat softly, and his face got solemn again. But John saw understanding in his eyes. They couldn't do this alone, and yet there was hope.

John gave his son a big smile, and could barely restrain the hug that he wanted to enfold his oldest in. But he couldn't help from pulling Dean against him in the darkness of the parking lot, and it was with just as fierce of a response that Dean returned the embrace.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Sorry about the long wait. I had a lot of stuff on the go, and to be honest this was a very emotional chapter to write. I edited it in a hurry and hope that there are no mistakes, and even more than that I hope that you enjoy reading it. I can't ever express how much I appreciate your support in this story! :D


	37. Chapter 37

_How can you say that your truth is better than ours?__  
__Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms__  
__The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home__  
__If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won___

_But I gave you all___

_I close my eyes for a while__  
__And force from the world a patient smile___

_But I gave you all__  
_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

When Sam first became aware of the sound of soft rustling, he was surprised to note that he had fallen asleep. Lying on his belly with his arms under his pillow and his toes hanging over the end of the mattress, he took up the whole bed comfortably. It was warm where he was, the blankets on top of him and the mattress underneath him already warmed and softened to his own body, but Sam regrettably forced himself to roll onto his side and reveal his chest and stomach to colder air. He propped himself up on one elbow to get a good look around him, and his eyes adjusted on the dark shape across the room that was his brother. Dean was slouching low on the cot, digging his toe into the heel of his boot to kick it off. Face slack and body slow, he looked as tired as Sam felt.

When Dean caught Sam's eye on him, he gave Sam a diffident look. "Sorry man, I was _trying_ to be quiet."

"Its fine," Sam mumbled back in reply, his voice heavy with sleep. Trying to get a better look at the man across the room from him, Sam stuck his feet out from under the covers and went to sit up. He moved his knee carefully as to not twinge it. But what was worse, the tug that sitting up pulled against his not-yet-healed insides forced Sam to lean in on himself to rest his elbows inconspicuously on his knees, trying to the moan of pain crawling out of his lungs from getting past his lips.

Dean sat up from his crutch to watch Sam with a look of concern. "Are you" –

" 'm fine."

"Like hell." With a little less gusto than he would have usually possessed, Dean moved to his feet and walked over to sit beside Sam on the bed. He rested a hand on Sam's shoulder and pulled him up into a sitting position, batting at Sam's shirt where his stitches were. "What's wrong?"

Sam shrugged Dean's hands off with an eye-roll. "Nothing you need to worry about. I'm fine. Just tired."

"Yeah? Well maybe you should get some sleep then."

"Wow," Sam laughed. "You come up with that all by yourself, Dean?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Besides, I _was_ sleeping." Shrugging, Sam gave his brother a searching look. Dean was laughing along with him, but it was forced. And it wasn't just because he was up late. "Dean… Are you okay?"

Eyebrows going high in the air, Dean turned to meet Sam's gaze curiously. "Uh… why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I'm asking. Bela said" –

Dean huffed. "Dude, its Bela. 'What_ isn't_ she saying?' is the question. There's nothing that she wouldn't" –

"She didn't say anything that actually meant anything," Sam ground out tiredly, interrupting Dean's explanation. "And that's probably what scares me. There isn't much that would keep her quiet. I caught her _crying,_ Dean. And don't try and tell me that _you_ weren't out drinking. I'm not stupid."

"So what if I was?" Expressions reading "try me", Dean gave Sam a snaky retort. "I drink all the time, Sam. What's so different about tonight?"

Sam huffed. "You tell me. Because Castiel sure didn't tell _me_ anything."

Chin sticking out a bit, Dean frowned. "He didn't tell me anything" –

"You're lying! Why can't you just tell me what's wrong for once?" Sam stood up in frustration, throwing his arms in the air. "I'm a _hell_ of a lot cheaper than Jack Daniels, Dean. It wouldn't cost anything to just _talk_ to me! I'm not" –

"Okay, Okay, Okay!" Dean hissed when Sam swayed on his heels a bit, jumping up to grab Sam by the front of his shirt and steady him. "Jesus Sammy, you're killing me here. When was the last time that you took your pills?"

"I took 'em." Sam blinked away his head rush with a smirk, watching the dark room come back into focus quickly. "Still just tired. Don't change the subject, Dean."

Deflating slightly, Dean relaxed when he saw that Sam wasn't going to fall over. With a loud sigh, he untangled his hands from Sam's shirt and turned to pace the room a few steps. When Dean curved in his stride to return Sam's eyes, his face was different. Sam had won. "Alright Sam, fine. What exactly _did_ Bela say, then?"

"Just that Castiel had made a visit..." Massaging the back of his neck in thought, Sam consciously brought his tone down. "She said that you left and that dad went after you. I don't know what happened, but she was really shaken about _something_."

It wasn't to Sam's surprise that Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, making a bit of a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. "Cas _did_ come. Of course, he pulled his usual routine of showing up in the most _convenient_ times, like in the middle of the freaking night…" Biting the side of his lower lip between his teeth, Dean pulled a face and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to be stalling for time, but Sam knew that once he got his brother going, he would get it all out sooner or later. "He wanted to talk to us all together, all three of us."

"You, dad and Bela." It was more of a statement than a question. Sam was connecting the dots, and at the same time giving Dean some slack to reel in. Considering that there was really no chance that this conversation _wouldn't_ drift into the topic of hell sooner or later, Dean would need a _lot_ of slack.

"Yeah. Cas got an order from down the line, so…" Dean seemed unsure how to continue, his foot sliding ever so sneakily across the hardwood floor.

Sam raised his eyes in hope for a little eye contact, trying to keep the ball rolling. He knew how hard it was for Dean to open up. Period. "Well what did he say?"

"More or less?" Dean's eyes danced the room in thought, as they always did. "Well after a lot of side-stepping, he finally told us why we're here."

"Here as in" –

"Why he brought us back, I mean." Dean's clarification cut Sam off. "He, uh… He wants us to catch Alistair."

"Oh." Sam had known since his altercation with Bela that he was treading a thin tightrope, but now it made a lot more sense. He had no clue what any of them had gone through in the pit, but he surely wasn't stupid. Alistair was probably the scariest thing out there right now. Sam wanted him as far away from his family as possible. Especially considering their history. "And how are we going to do that?"

"_We_?" That got some eye-contact out of Dean, and something deathly close to a glare. "Are you _serious_? You're still in recovery, damnit! And I wasn't talking about" –

"I can pull him," Sam insisted, holding Dean's eyes with a frown. "You know I can" –

"_Do_ I? What did I just say, man? You're still healing from a _stab wound_, unless you forgot! And not to mention the shiny new black knee, the probable concussion, the visions, and whatever the hell _else_ you've got going on!" Dean gestured with a swung arm at Sam's injuries, as if he needed to point them out. "You can _not_ pull him. That demon at the church was a fluke and you know it. His peg-rate was a hell of a lot lower than…" Clenched teeth grinding and fists clenched, Dean turned away to turn his back on his brother. "Damnit Sam…" Even in the dark, even from behind, it was easy to see that his shoulder's shook. "This isn't your job."

His own anger bubbling up – anger at himself, anger at Dean, but most of all anger for Alistair – Sam breathed deeply through his nose. "No? Then who's is it, Dean? Yours? Dads? Why should your necks be on the line again?"

" 'Cause we're the only one's who can. The angels" –

"I don't care about the damn angels! If they want Alistair so bad then they can get him themselves!"

"It's a little bit more complicated than that."

Jumping forwards, Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulder and swung him back around. "No, it's not. You _shouldn't_ have to do this. That's all there is to it! Haven't you given enough already?"

"What, you think I don't _know _that?" Dean looked a fraction away from shoving Sam backwards, and he probably would've if Sam hadn't been already injured. "You don't think I'm scared shitless? Is that what you want me to say?"

Sam shook his head, but held his ground. "Of course not. That's not what I" –

"Or would you rather me tell you to go ahead? Even if you could do it – which you can't – you'd be doing it alone. Cannon fodder." Dean pointed to the ground with a pointer finger, his shaking fist gesturing at nothing in particular. "That's not the Winchester way, and you know it."

"That's not…" Sam felt his mouth hang agape in a breathless laugh, completely taken aback. "You're kidding me, right? I hope you realize how that sounds!"

"Sam…"

"So you and dad making deals, that wasn't being cannon fodder? That wasn't doing it alone?"

Dean bit his lip again for a moment, and appeared to be steeling himself. His voice was low when he spoke. "That's the point, Sam."

_…What? _ "Excuse me?"

"I _said_, that's the _point_. We can't keep on doing this to ourselves. To _each other_. It's a freaking cycle, Sam. If we just keep stepping in front to catch each other's bullets, no one will end up happy. Our entire family has made deals, and look where it's got us!"

Breathing in deeply, Sam considered what Dean was saying. He was well aware of how those deals had effected them. But at the same time… if he could do something about Alistair, he had to go for it. He owed it to them, really. "I'm not talking about making a deal, I'm just" –

"Same dung, different pile." Dean held his little brother's eyes with determination. "From now own we do things as a team… or we don't do them at all. Weren't we just talking about that earlier this afternoon? You, me, and dad. Together."

It was true. They had talked about it. Crying. It had been some big cheesy father-and-sons moment, and Sam had agreed with every word spoken. But this was different… wasn't it?

"This ritual isn't my idea," Dean continued slowly, now that he had gotten Sam's attention. "And if you want me to be honest with you, we don't have a _choice_. We're freaked. But it _needs_ to be done. And Cas says that we're the only one's who can do this, so…" Huffing in exasperation, Dean shrugged wearily. "I just need you to have my back on this, alright?"

Sam felt like he had run a marathon. And when he saw the wet haze in his big brother's eyes, it all fell back into place. Dean just needed Sam to have his back. After hearing that, how could Sam disagree with anything that his brother said? "Yeah, I… Jesus, Dean. I'm sorry" –

"Don't be." Dean's eyes spoke more than his lips did. It was enough to tell Sam that he was also sorry. "Just promise me that you will sit this one out, alright? Get some sleep, take your pills, get better. Dad and I will do our jobs a lot better if we know that you're safe."

As much as part of Sam wanted to argue, he knew that Dean was fighting on the same side as he. They just wanted to protect each other. But Dean was right in the fact that they were taking it too far. And Sam was still the baby of the family, whether he liked it that way or not. If they needed to feel that they had to protect him from this, then so be it. Anything was worse giving Dean and his father some peace of mind. Sam nodded, his mouth set in a tight line. "Yeah… yeah, okay."

"Promise?." Dean let loose a breath of relief, his voice held that deep and husky content tone that was somehow fatherly and immature at the same time. It was the big brother voice. And if Sam could make Dean feel confident enough to feel like a big brother again, it was worth stepping out on this one. Alistair wouldn't be an issue anymore. It didn't really matter if Sam was the one who disposed of him or not.

" 'course." Sam made his way back to the bed and dropped down on it, his sleep-deprived muscles feeling slow and heavy. "So what did Cas say you had to do? Is this ritual some kind of exorcism, or what?"

"No, it's not quite like that." Dean took Sam's example and fell into his cot, running a hand over the back of his neck. "The son of a bitch disappeared before I could quiz him up much, but he said that he'll take us where we need and get everything ready before we get there."

"And when's he coming?"

A bit of a pause hung in the air before Dean moved to speak, and Sam realized that the question had been a bit more loaded then he had thought. "Uh… Tomorrow night."

If Sam had had more energy, he would've sprung back to his feet again in shock. But he didn't. And as it was, he had already promised that it wasn't his job. He should have known that Dean wasn't done yet. "To-Tomorrow?" Leaning into his hand, Sam let his fingers run through his hair. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish I was." Even in the dark, Dean's face was pensive for a long time, causing Sam to think that he was brooding over his next words. But instead of giving Sam any more insight, he lifted his legs and stretched out, his heels hanging dangerously over the edge and his hands folded behind his face.

All it took was this difference in elevation to put Dean's expression in shadow, but it was with remorse that Sam grasped that it wouldn't have mattered. Dean had been hiding behind a mask for a long time. Since before he went to hell, even. Since John had made the deal. And he'd been right. Mary, John, Dean… They had all done it. And Sam was the only one left. Was that supposed to be reassuring? Thinking back to his recent visions, to his family's deals, to everything… Sam doubted that keeping his soul would be an issue for very long.

XXXXXXXXXX

**I feel really bad for always having to apologies for these late updates, but I just feel like this year has been hard to keep up with. This has been the hardest school year of my life. And of course, there's been other factors. But never-mind that. Summer vacation is almost here at last. Look forward to MUCH quicker updates soon!**

**So back to business… What did you think? I'd love to hear from you guys! Thanks for sticking with me!**


	38. Chapter 38

"**I didn't hear you leave****  
****I wonder how am I still here****  
****And I don't want to move a thing****  
****It might change my memory**

**Oh I am what I am****  
****I do what I want****  
****But I can't hide****"**

**- Dido, "Here With Me"**

Morning came before anyone was prepared for it. When Sam's eyelids peeled themselves open, the sun was already pouring in through the window drapes and causing dust particles in the air to dance. He pulled himself up on shaky and un-rested arms, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes to clear them, and jumped to his feet in hopes that it would give him a sense of energy. "Mornin'," he muttered in the direction of the cot. It wasn't until he paid close attention to the other side of the room that he noticed that he was the only one there. Now feeling a sense of embarrassed urgency at the fact that he probably overslept, Sam quickly got his awkward limbs into some clothes and tramped down the stairs.

"Aaaaand he's awake!" A familiar gruff voice called across the hall from where he sat at the dinner table, a usual assortment of books scattered around him like a mismatched halo.* "You sleep well, princess?"

"And good morning to you too, Bobby!" Sitting himself down in the kitchen and hiding a yawn behind a large hand, Sam rolled his eyes sarcastically in response.

Behind a steaming mug of coffee, the father figure of a man before him sighed in annoyance. "It's afternoon, actually."

Ironically enough, his real father chose that moment to walk in. Sam gave him a tight-lipped smile, sensitive to the recent knowledge of the job that his father would have to do that night. Talking to Dean about hell was hard enough, let alone getting anything out of Papa Bear. John had a worn look about him, looking more himself than ever with slight dark circles that Sam knew were a testament to a night of drinking. He kept his expression level, unsure if John knew that he knew about the plan. Did Dean want him to keep his mouth shut?

As John passed the table, he grabbed one of the books from Bobby's pile and flicked through a few pages, leaning against the counter-top and crossing one ankle over the other. This was the John Winchester that Sam had grown up with; all business. "Afternoon, gents."

"Hey, dad..." Even to Sam, his voice sounded hesitant. John was just pretending that nothing was wrong, wasn't he?

When Dean entered the room, Sam had to force himself not to stare at the double-take-worthy moment. He walked in just like John had, grabbed a mug of coffee, and leaned against the back of a chair. Father and son both had that same blank look, the same dark circles. Sam stared him down until Dean looked up from his coffee and stilled, eyes full of both surprise and understanding. His face tightened, eyes darting from John to Sam. _"He doesn't know that you know,"_ they said.

Bobby had set his book down by now, and was frowning up at the group from underneath his trucker cap, suspicion and confusion etched in his beard-clad features.

Sam turned a hard gaze to his father, who was putting too much attention into reading an upside-down book of Japanese spell-work. Then, looking back to Dean, he sighed. "So…" When he spoke, his voice sounded awkwardly loud in the silent room. "Are we going to talk about what happened last night, or am I supposed to pretend I don't know about it?"

All at once, those words set the room into motion. Dean, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, choked on his drink and coughed into his cup. Bobby's head rose from his reading materials, peaked interest finally given grounds. After a few seconds, the book that had been in John's hand fell to the floor, and the thud that it made was surprisingly loud.

"You…uh…" Looking especially pale in comparison to his usual tan, John looked like he was having a hard time finding a rejoinder. Sam immediately regretted his outlandish question, aware that talking about hell in any way was something that John probably didn't want to do with his son. Especially Sam. And especially since it was John.

"Yeah." Sam avoided the urge to shrug and cover up his mistake, but didn't catch the motion quite quick enough and felt his shoulder twitch a little bit anyways. "I just mean… You know… Did Cas give you a plan or anything?" He gave Dean a lost look, asking for some kind of help, and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at his mess up.

"We don't know yet." Dean held Sam's eyes, looking more than pissed, but coming in to help anyways. Luckily for Sam, he didn't mention that he had already _told_ Sam this little factor. "Right now, we're just" –

"Excuse me, fellas," Bobby cut in, brow furrowing in confusion under his uniform trucker cap. "Anyone want to fill me in on exactly what the _hell_ we're talking about, here?"

John turned a shifty eye in the direction of his old friend, neck muscles tight, but Dean turned with a full-fledged glare on his face. "Bobby…"

"Don't '_Bobby_' me, boy." Looking especially old and tired, Bobby tilted his head in Dean's direction and gave him a dose of his own medicine. "I'm only trying to help here..."

When Bobby turned his head and was silenced by the sight of something, Sam followed his gaze to see Bela lingering in the doorway. She was wearing black dress-pants and a beige blazer, a dark maroon low-cut top underneath, and she was wearing makeup again. Good 'ol confident Bela. But after being caught in what would seem, to her, as a very uncomfortable situation, didn't do much for her confidence. Either way, she made good sport out of trying. "Morning…" Behind that smug expression and pursed lips, Sam could see her eyes darting from one man to the other in fear. "Am I _interrupting_ something?" The accusation in her voice was poorly concealed. She clearly didn't want them to be talking about what had happened the previous night. That much was clear.

John, his feathers already ruffled, tossed a bothered look her way and rested his hands on the edge of the counter, white-knuckled. Sam knew that John didn't like Bela already, but he wasn't to the point yet where he would freak out on her. Dean, on the other hand, had passed that point years ago.

"Yeah, _Bela_, you are." Speaking her name as if it was a bad thing onto itself, Dean moved his death-glare her way. "Why do you always seem to be so good at that?"

Eyebrows raising in false humor, it was quite obvious to Sam that even though Bela was about to act amused, she had taken the comment to heart. "Wow, Dean, good to know you still have a sense of..." She waggled her eyebrows condescendingly. "Class."

"Shut up!"

"Hey!" John had an authorities finger raised, pointing at his oldest son straightly. "Dean, watch your mouth" –

"You don't even _know_ her" –

"She's a part of this too!"

Bobby's head seemed to be on a track, revolving and bobbing from one speaker to the next, until he got fed up and interrupted. "What the _hell_ are you kids bickering about?"

"We, uh…" Bella seemed to be frozen on the spot, for once unsure of what kind of sarcastic comment would route the anger away from her.

"Guys, _stop_ it." Sam gave Dean a hard look, sensing that his brother was not only getting built up, but was about to explode. "Let's just talk about this."

Looking at Sam as if he was suddenly a threat, Sam saw a flicker of fear in Bela's eyes, masked by frustration. "Oh, great! Are we putting this in the paper, too? How the hell do _you_ know?"

"That's a good question…" Silent but building up to a deadly level close to that of his son's, John's look at Sam was nothing less than evil.

Getting more than a little pissed off at having no clue what was going on, Bobby had slid to the end of his seat like he was about to jump up and strangle someone. "Let's start by clarifying what we're even _talking _about!"

Dean sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Bobby, I said" –

"I don't _care_ what you said!"

"Okay, everybody _shut up_!" Sam was on his feet before he was aware of moving, and when his fists started to tingle, he realized that he had slammed them down on the table. Unexpectedly afterwards, everything blurred on the edges a little bit, and Sam found himself grabbing the back of the chair behind him to steady himself. Despite this setback, he refused to set his bravado aside.

The little slip had gone unnoticed by no one, and Sam couldn't be sure if their silence was due to his outburst, or the poorly-hidden weakness shown thereafter. Bobby had a tilted wince pulling at his lips, Bela's eyes were wide in stark alarm, and John was actually leaning back slightly, as if in defense. His face was laden with guilt. In comparison, Dean looked like he had been punched in the gut. "… Sam, are you" –

Sam lifted a hand to silence his brother, getting frustrated. "Do you two not remember that talk we had yesterday? We do things as a family now, remember? Or does that just apply to _me_?" Tilting his head to get both his father and big brother in his sights, Sam raised his eyebrows as if to beg question for his statement. "Of _course_ I know about what happened last night, dad…." Sam's expression softened slightly, but the intensity of anger was replaced by that of compassion. Even though he had the upper hand for once, he still felt terribly small beside the man who had made him feel inferior since the day he had left for Stanford. _Trust me, _his eyes begged. _For once, just trust _me. "And no, I'm not going to pretend that I'm not." For the span of a few seconds, he met Dean's eyes, and found that he was shaking his head back and forth slightly. "Damn it, guys… this is really not a good time for us to start bickering. I get that not all of us are besties, but _tough_."

Bela seemed to shrink back at that last sentence in Sam's peripheral vision, and he couldn't help but give her a dirty look as well. The tip of her shoe traced patterns on Bobby's hardwood, avoiding Sam's eyes. Turning his gaze to Dean and John, Sam was disappointed that they were doing the same thing.

"If you can't even manage a conversation over the table, then how do you expect to kill Alistair?" Even though the words came out with more bite than he had intended, and on some level he regretted having to say them, Sam knew that they were necessary. And one by one, he saw all three of the intended party shift in reaction.

Even though Bobby had long since simmered after Sam's explosion, he had settled down to a level of dazed awe. At Sam's words his expression darkened. "_That's_ what this is about?" This time, he didn't turn his question into an accusation. "You're gonna… kill Alistair? But how?"

"…We don't know." John moved his hand up to rub the back of his neck in thought, profile tense with thought. He looked older than his time. Sam could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, trying to get back on track and recover from a moment of vulnerability that he wasn't used to or prepared for. "Your angel-friend Castiel showed up last night, told us that he'll stop by tonight. All we know is that some kind of ritual is involved."

"Huh." Bobby nodded slowly, as if trying to fill in the blanks in his mind without overloading. "When are we going to do it?"

"You aren't doing anything, Bobby." Dean lagged into the conversation with a guilty school-boy sort of look, holding Sam's eyes as he did. "It's just the three of us. You and Sam can't come with…"

It seemed that the whole room sighed with the weight of that thought, and Sam tore his eyes away from his brother long enough to acknowledge what had just been said with a tight nod to Bobby. Bela, forever the odd one out, was lost in the woodwork. Unfamiliar with the complexity of the way the Winchesters communicated with each other, and after just being targeted, she was walking on eggshells. Uncharacteristically, she had nothing to say.

"Sam's right," John chipped in after a while. He had his game face on again, but there was a spark of something behind his eyes that Sam couldn't put his finger on. "There isn't anything we can do until tonight, so there is no point wasting our energy 'till then." Pushing away from the counter, he sighed heavily and crossed to the table to lean his hands against it, giving the inhabitants of the room a look with a swoop of his head. When he settled, the direction of his gaze settled on his youngest for a tad longer than the rest. This did not go unnoticed by Sam, neither did the fact that their shoulders brushed as John joined him at the table, a silent physical touch that said more than any monologue could portray. "Like it or not, we're stuck with this. So let's quit our bitching and saddle up. Rest today, keep our heads clear until tonight. And then…" Sam felt the hesitation in his voice penetrate the silence in the room like a crisp fog. "Then we do our jobs."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ever since she was a child, Mary Winchester had loved waking up to the sound of rain.

It was the sound of new life, of change, of hope. It was peaceful and healing. Waking up to the sound of rain meant that her boys would be sleeping soundly, that her and her husband could share a moment alone, have a cup of coffee, sit on the porch. It meant big umbrellas and mud boots. It meant walking outside with her boys, watching the biggest tromp around in puddles and the youngest coo as if the world was singing to him. Rain was like God's gift, just for her. And it was the first thing that she noticed, when she awoke.

Opening her eyes, the world came into focus. She wasn't warm in her bed, and she wasn't met with the touch of cotton and the smell of her husband's aftershave around her and the soft light of morning seeping in through the windows. Instead, the sky above her cried warm droplets onto her face and exposed neck, and underneath her, the ground was cold and hard.

Mary sat up, wiping the moisture from her cheeks in surprise, when she saw a man standing over her. Even after years and years of quick reflexes and a strong knowledge of self defense as a hunter, she didn't find herself afraid. Even if she was, something inside of her made it unable to move.

That was awe. Peace. This man seemed to be a part of the rain.

"Don't be afraid." The man spoke softly, almost monotone, but it wasn't devoid of emotion.

The man was average height, about six feet tall, with tanned skin and dark messy hair that stood up in disarray. Under a long tan trench coat, he wore a messy suit and loose tie. Kneeling down at her side, the man raised two fingers to press gently on her forehead. Surprised and dazed, she didn't even finch as he touched her.

Suddenly the scenery changed, and she felt a soft mattress underneath her and observed the rain-filled sky change into wall-paper plastered walls and a stucco ceiling. Mary knew that she should be freaking out, but for some reason she felt safe. This man _was_ safe.

Her eyes traveled to the end of the bed, where she saw a pile of folded clothes stacked too neatly to be natural. Even a mother's hands couldn't fold clothes that perfectly. But for some reason, these weren't odd to her either. Everything felt dreamlike and light. She rolled her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to find the ability to speak, while looking into the strange man's baby-blue eyes daftly. "Who… are you?" Her voice sounded like a breath to her ears, as if the only thing she could pay attention to were those eyes. The same colour as the rain, no doubt.

"My name is Castiel." The man didn't seem taken-aback by her odd behavior or supreme eye-contact, and held her gaze as long as she willed it. Listening to his voice, she knew that she couldn't have questioned anything that he said. "Your prayers have not gone unheard, Mary."

Silent for a moment, Mary took a few seconds to consider that thought. She couldn't force herself to speak.

"There is work that needs doing. But first…. You must remember."

"Remember what" –

Before she could finish, Castiel's fingers touched her forehead again, and the colour seemed to deepen in the lines of her vision. And she did remember.

She remembered everything.

The man with the yellow eyes, the fire, hearing her boys cry. And then everything went blank. She had _died._

It was as if the air had been forced from her lungs. Mary inhaled, trembling. "My… my family." Suddenly everything made a hell of a lot more sense. _"Your prayers have not gone unheard." _ "What _prayers_?" A desperate look in her eyes, she sought out answers in his.

"Things will be explained in time." The man broke eye-contact first, and for the first time she saw how tired he appeared to be.

That just wasn't good enough. "Who _are_ you? I mean…" Even though she already knew the answer, she had to ask. "_What_ are you?"

Castiel looked at her again, more hesitantly this time, and she had a hard time reading the mix of emotions there. "I believe you already know that, Mary."

She did. By God, she did. The believer in her could not shake the faith, even after being dead, or after the life that she had lived before dying. This was an angel.

"Is..." Suddenly afraid that he would leave, that she would loose him, Mary sat up even more and bit her bottom lip between her teeth. "Are the boys okay? Is John?"

"Yes." Even though the angel's words were happy, his face seemed to sober at those words, as if contradicting himself. Once again, he looked away. "I will come for you in a few days, Mary."

And just like that, he was gone. No flash of smoke or bright blinding light, or singing of angels. Just a man in a trench coat who put her in a hotel and left. But despite all this, Mary knew that everything he said had been true. She stood slowly, looking around her with a new-found nervousness about her own body. She had been dead. Dead.

Moving over to the far table, her hand passed by a folded wad of cash to linger over a newspaper. Did she dare read it? Heart pounding in her chest, Mary flipped it over and felt her heart drop when she saw the date.

It had been twenty four years.

XXXXX

Well, summer vacation has been over for a while (for those of us in the west, at least), and it's back in the saddle! Turns out I didn't have nearly as much free time as I wanted, but I hope that you all had a wonderful summer! I feel like I should stop assuming that I'll have free time. When I do, something bad or crazy happens. All details aside, it's good to be back; that's for sure! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review about your thoughts on this chapter. I love hearing from you guys!


	39. Chapter 39

_Tonight I'll wait for you,__  
__The raindrops are falling,__  
__The kindle is burning,__  
__For you, I'll be waiting.___

_If all of the days, have no more light,__  
__And all of our dreams are lost tonight,__  
__The stars cannot fall,__  
__And everything turns to grey,__  
__I will stay._

_I Will Stay: We Are The Fallen_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The angel had lied; he hadn't returned in a few days.

Well… That was to say that angels _could_ lie. Perhaps he had changed his mind, or something had come up. Either way, Castiel appeared to Mary again as early as that afternoon. It was much sooner than she had expected, but her nerves were grateful for it.

After their first encounter, Mary had sat on the bed for God-knows how long, contemplating. She couldn't put together the pieces. The demon with the yellow eyes had come back for her, after all those years of peace and quiet. But why? Revenge? He had waited so long. Ten years, in fact.

And then, Mary had come full circle. _Ten years_! That had been the price of bringing John back from the dead. The demon had told her that he would visit in ten years, and that if he wasn't interrupted, nothing would go wrong.

And Mary had interrupted him, in the baby's room. He had been standing over the baby… Doing what?

Before she had gotten the chance to see what had happened, she had been on the ceiling, right above little Sammy's crib. Insanely, she remembered being unable to think about her pain or the fear of the demon across the room. Her only thought was that she might fall on her baby, or that the demon would take Sammy away and leave her there. When John entered the room, hovering over the crib below her, she was unable to warn him. And then _it_ happened.

She died.

But where had she gone, Mary wondered? Heaven? Hell? She couldn't remember a damn thing. Sure, being a hunter had required her to do a few things that weren't agreeable, but she had never killed anyone. And she had always tried so hard to be good. If she hadn't been, why would an angel have brought her back to life?

…Twenty-four years later.

The figure alone was a jaw-dropper. Dean would be 29 years old. Sam would be 25. Her boys were men now, and she had missed it. No first steps for Sammy, or first adult tooth for Dean. No removing the training wheels off their bikes or meeting their first girlfriends. No report cards or permission slips or laundry. They had grown up without her. She had faith in John's parental abilities, sure, but Mary couldn't help feeling a selfish sense of loss of not helping raise them herself. Castiel had said that they were okay, hadn't he? Did that mean that the demon had left them alone?

And what had become of John, after twenty-four years? Had he remarried, had a few more kids? Mary's heart dropped in her chest. She could picture a whole new family without her in it. John and some strange woman, a few gangly teenagers at the dinner table, Sam and Dean phoning every week or so to check in. After all these years, she had been replaced. She had to have been.

When the angel returned, he found Mary cross-legged on the bed and crying over a luke-warm plate of pasta. On the floor beside her were her wet clothes and a room-service receipt.

"Mary…" Castiel spoke with quiet concern, making Mary jump at the voice beside her. She dropped the fork that had been clenched in her hand, even though she hadn't taken a bite in almost twenty minutes. When she turned to face the angel, his face was remorseful.

"Y-Yes?" Despite the fact that she was safe in the presence of an angel, Mary was embarrassed. She wiped at her wet cheeks with an awkward laugh. "It has only been a few hours. You're here early."

"I am."

Mary sniffled. "Why?"

"Things have changed. I need to take you somewhere safe."

"…Oh." Setting the plate of food beside her, Mary wiped her cheeks with the inside of her sleeve. There was an awkward silence. "Is everything okay?"

Castiel frowned, and could be heard clearing his throat. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Uh… Alright." Mary tried to force a smile, but it came out a grimace. She should have at least tried to sleep. It was too late now, but she was feeling more drained then ever. Which was ironic, when Mary thought about it, since she had just come back to life. How could that be draining?

"Are these clothes to your satisfaction?" Castiel gestured to the blue-jeans, v-neck t-shirt and hoodie that he had brought for her. She felt like an inmate, but a cozy one.

"Great. They uh…. fit really well."

"Good…"

After a moment, Castiel reached out and rested his hand on Mary's shoulder. She supposed that this was his way of comforting her. Oddly enough, it reminded her of when Dean caught her crying once, on a day when she was moody and stressed. He didn't understand why she was upset, but had wrapped his arms around her neck anyways. He had always been her little angel, taking care of his mom and his baby brother. And because of that, she always felt that he needed his own angel to watch over him. But…

"Castiel?"

"Yes?" The angel tilted his head at her question, unblinking. She couldn't help noticing that he had stubble, and that his hair was messy and his clothes wrinkled. It wasn't exactly the way she had pictured an angel of the Lord.

"Have you been watching over my boys?"

"You could say that." Castiel's brows drew closer together, and his hand fell back to his side. He seemed uncomfortable.

_Well how_ could_ you say it, then? _Mary sniffled, biting back frustration. Didn't angels speak plain English? She decided to try a different approach. "Do you keep them out of trouble?"

That actually got a huff. Mary didn't know that angels were even _capable_ of huffing. "That's impossible. They – " Castiel cut himself off at the look he received, and seemed to shy back a bit at his mistake. "That wasn't supposed to sound condescending."

Mary raised an eyebrow, feeling exhausted. "How was it _supposed_ to sound?" There was no sarcasm in her voice, although she was often someone who retorted to speaking that way when she was stressed. Years of being a housewife, being a mom, had kicked that habit.

Castiel seemed to evaluate her face. Mary wondered how much of her he saw. He was an angel, after all.

"According to your sons, I do not possess what you may call 'people skills'," Castiel answered after a pregnant pause. "Please excuse my frankness, Mary."

Those baby blue eyes bore into her very soul, it seemed. And Mary knew that she couldn't stay upset. "I-I guess I could let that slide. So… they know you, then?"

"Mary, I'm going to take you to a home in South Dakota. A man named "Bobby" lives there. He's a friend of John's." Castiel side-stepped Mary's question completely.

The hidden subtext was right in front of her. She just couldn't see it. Mary frowned. "Why can't I go home? I want to see my husband and my sons."

Castiel sighed. "The human definition of the word 'home" is very limited, but if you need to select a location, Bobby's house is the closest thing. Your family will be there."

Hadn't John bought another house after the fire? Or an apartment, even? Mary didn't understand.

Before she could ask, Castiel held up his hand, two fingers straight in the air. If she didn't know any better, Mary would have sworn that he was about to swear on boy-scouts honor. But he was really going to zap her somewhere. For some reason, Mary freaked.

"Wait!" She backed away from his hand, eyes wide. Castiel tiled his head in confusion. "I…" Looking for some way to explain her fear, Mary shrugged. "What will I tell them? I saw the newspaper, Castiel. It's been twenty-four years!"

"It will be a shock, but they will accept your resurrection as a fact," Castiel stated blatantly. He didn't seem to realize how shocking bringing someone from the grave would seem. "I will attest to that. Now _please_." Almost forcefully, he held out his hand to her. Waiting for her to accept.

Mary swallowed. What was she so afraid of? Stilling her trembling fingers, she grasped his hand.

And without so much as a puff of smoke they were standing before a wooden-paneled house that looked on the brink of falling in on itself. Half of the windows in the upstairs rooms were boarded up, and the porch out front looked creaky at best. Around the yard were vehicles of different makes, years, and conditions. If she tilted her head to the right, she could see the beginning of a larger collection round back of the house. None of these details stuck, however. Sitting not thirty feet from the front porch, parked in a pile of leaves, was her car. Well, the car John had brought home instead of the practical van she had wanted. She had never particularly liked the Impala, to be honest. But seeing it now, it was nothing short of glorious. It was her first sign that some things had remained as they were. After twenty-four years, John had kept the Impala that they had shared.

Castiel cleared his throat in a feeble attempt to catch her attention, and Mary whipped her head around to catch him watching her curiously. "Do you favor automobiles?" He questioned politely, trying to make conversation.

Mary smiled. "Not really. But it's John's, so…" She shrugged, trying to convey the attachment she felt to the car.

"Actually, it's Dean's." Castiel's voice was stern, and his eyes wide. He seemed to be defending Dean's ownership of the car, as if everyone had to know. Dean owned the Impala… so there. In a way, Mary wasn't surprised to hear that Dean had inherited his father's love for cars. He had been playing with car toys since he was a tot. But she couldn't help but wonder why an angel would concern himself with earthly possessions. But before she could ask, he turned on his heels – coat trails of his jacket billowing behind him – and marched up to the front doorstep. Mary followed behind timidly.

Oh God… it was time.

"Bobby prefers that I knock before entering," Castiel gave Mary another forceful look. "It is the custom." As if he was telling her something she didn't already know.

"Uh…"

Castiel raised a hand and curled it into a fist, leaving a long pause between each time he banged on the door. It looked unnatural.

After a few seconds, they heard the stomping of boots on the other side of the door. There was a pause, during which someone could look through a peephole, and then the door swung open abruptly.

"Wow Cas, you slow son of a gun, I didn't think you'd actually learn to use the front do" –

At the sight of Mary, the man who was speaking stilled. He was middle-aged, with a plaid flannel shirt and a corduroy vest, worn jeans, and a faded trucker cap. His hair was a mix between brown, grey, and white, as was his beard. Although he wasn't familiar, the Browning shot-gun in his hand was. Noticing her eyeing it suspiciously, the man hid it behind his back. Behind his beard he blushed slightly.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing company, Cas." The man lifted his hat at Mary, forcing a smile.

"This is Bobby," Castiel explained to Mary, making sure to meet her eyes as he did so. She was quickly realizing that the angel didn't seem to be very comfortable with human behavior. Then, he turned to the man again.

"Nice to meet you, Bobby." Mary smiled tightly, offering her hand and raising her eyebrows to hide her nervousness. "I'm Mary."

" 'pleasure's mine, miss." Bobby nodded his head, shaking her hand firmly. He seemed somewhat self-conscious, and his eyes darted to Castiel.

"I didn't have time to use the telephone," Castiel explained in response to Bobby's earlier question. "I had set aside one of my agents to guard her hotel room for a few days, but I'll need him for tonight. So I took Mary here a few days early. I hope it wont distract John too much from the" –

"And why would it do that?" Bobby interrupted, eyebrow raised. Just as suddenly, something seemed to click. "Oh. You're…" Looking Mary up and down in awe, Bobby's eyes widened. Clearly he knew who she was. "Come on in!" He beckoned them in hurriedly, tucking the shotgun inconspicuously in an umbrella-stand as he did so. Once they were inside, Bobby was already half-way down the hallway. "John! Get 'yer but out here!"

Mary's heart fluttered like she was thirteen years old, pumping against her chest. She straightened her clothes with a trembling hand, fluffing up her hair and suddenly wondering what she looked like after twenty-four years. Would John still find her attractive?

There was the sound of shuffling in the other room, and she could hear a gruff voice responding in a question. It was a lot rougher than she remembered, but it was undeniably the same pitch and tone. When John walked around the corner, Mary wasn't surprised to see that he had changed visibly as well. While his sense of style hadn't been damaged much over the years, his clothes were worn with a different air then she remembered. He was bigger, sure. But it was more than that. It was the way that he carried himself. She imagined that this was the John who had fought in the war. His hair was touched with silver at the temples, but his hair was still dark. The beard was new. All in all, he was gruffer than she remembered. Yeah… "gruffer" was a good word for it.

The second John met her eyes, he stopped dead in his tracks. His lips parted ever-so slightly in awe, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Mary?"

At the look in her husband's eyes, Mary felt chills. She beamed widely, nodding like a small child. "Y-Yeah… It's me."

John's eyes traveled over Mary's shoulder to where Castiel waited, and she could tell that he was questioning her existence. "Cas, is she…?"

"It's her, John."

Three long strides was all it took for John to pull Mary into his arms and against his broad chest. Mary flinched in surprise, but her arms wrapped around his waist in relief instantly. His clothes smelled like diesel fuel and kerosene, and when she pressed her face into his neck she smelled the cologne that he used to wear. John's chest expanded against hers, and she could feel his hot breath by her ear. It was like nothing had changed. For her, no time had passed at all. But she could feel the pain in John's heartbeat against her ribs. For him, it had been decades.

"God… Mary." John squeezed her tightly, as if he was afraid that she would disappear. Perhaps he did.

"Shh… I know, honey. It's okay." She rubbed her hand up and down his back, feeling her eyes tear up.

John sniffled into her neck and gave one last squeeze before holding Mary out at arms length, looking her up and down. "Are you okay? What happened?" He turned to the angel almost accusingly.

"Remember what we discussed earlier?" Being annoyingly vague, Castiel gave John a knowing look. "I resurrected thirteen hunters. Did you forget that I said you would know some of them?"

_Hunters?_ Mary's heart skipped a beat. Did John know that she had been a hunter? Why was the angel concerning him with all of this?

"You've told us a _lot_ of things lately." John's voice was steely. Clearly he hadn't been warned ahead of time, but he did seem to understand what Castiel meant.

"John…" For some reason, Mary felt small in this new world. When was someone going to explain what was happening?

Threading his arm around her shoulder, John held Mary close, like he understood how she was feeling. After all these years, he could still read her.

"You know about the hunters?"

She felt John physically stiffen at that, and there was a long silence. "We're going to talk about everything soon, Mary. I promise."

That wasn't really an answer, but it was good enough. She would have to wait.

John turned to face Bobby, looking around the room for something. "Where's the boys?"

"Somewhere," came the reply. "Want me to go round 'em up?" Bobby gave John an understanding but brief smile. He clearly cared about John dearly. Mary was glad to see that he had good friends. Well… friend.

"Please."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The afternoon passed by painfully slowly. Since they had nothing to do but wait, everyone found some way to distract themselves. Bobby made a pot of coffee, and the five of them would gulp it down. In an unexpected fatherly moment John had put his foot down after Sam's third cup, stating that he had had more than enough and that with his condition, he shouldn't be drinking coffee at all. Sam had felt a mixture of annoyance and overwhelming love at this demand. On the one hand, John was being his dad again. On the other… no more coffee.

John, Dean and Bobby ended up sitting around the big desk in the library not five minutes later, huddled around books of various region and purpose. Sam waited until he could hear them debating the uses of Japanese wormwood before he hobbled over to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup and hiding out on the back porch, reclining in an old whicker chair and stretching out his sore knee.

Dean and Bela spent most of the day speaking no more than what was necessary without making the awkwardness between them obvious. Not long after Sam's outburst in the kitchen, Bela had asked to borrow Sam's lab-top and had gone about searching for any record of her death and to find out what had happened to all of her assets.

Sam had barely finished half of his mug before the screen door swung open.

"Wondered where you had run off to," Dean's voice barked behind him. He sounded just as over-caffeinated as Sam felt.

"Didn't know you were looking for me."

Dean huffed in reply, using his boot to wipe the leaves and cobwebs of a chair in the corner, and pull it beside him. "I thought dad told you not to drink any more of that." He gave the cup in Sam's hand a dark look.

"I won't tell if you won't." Sam's voice was dry.

Eyeing the grass sway back and forth in the breeze, Sam looked upwards to the sky. Despite the warm air around them, dark clouds boiled. He wondered if maybe being in the calm before the storm was more than metaphorical. He was watching the grass, and Dean was watching him.

"Sam…" Dean's throat cleared softly, taking a drag of his own coffee.

Unsure why he was so tired, despite all the coffee he had drank, Sam kept his gaze forward. "Mhmm?"

"I know I'm a hypocrite, okay? I get it."

"Yes, you are. And what don't you get, Dean?"

"Why you're so pissed at me."

Sam sighed, biting his bottom lip. "I'm not pissed at you, I just…" Shrugging, he angled his face towards Dean's.

"It's fine to admit it, you know." Dean picked at something sticky on the arm of his chair, avoiding Sam's eyes. "I threw a fit when you ran away, even though you were trying to save our asses. And now I'm doing the same thing. It's not fair for me to ask you not to be angry. I wasn't lying when I said that I wanted us to be straight with each other from now on, but…"

Sam's brow furrowed. "But?"

"But I don't want you to be there when we catch Alistair. I know how that sounds, and I know that it's selfish, but _I_ want to be the one to do it. I'm just lucky that I have an excuse for you to stay home." Dean swirled his mug around in his hands. "I need this, Sam. I need to know that I can."

Sobering, Sam nodded. "Then go do it. Kick his ass. I'm sure Dad and Bela will be more than willing to help out."

Dean smirked, drinking from his coffee again. Sam mirrored the motion, unsure of what else to do.

"So…" Dean's voice changed, and Sam sensed that the subject was about to as well. "You planning on telling me what happened to Ruby?"

The coffee went down the wrong pipe and Sam had to force himself not to spit it out, but the fact that he had coked on it hadn't gone unnoticed. Sam wondered how he had gone so long without saying anything. Hell, he had barely thought about Ruby since she left. But somehow the memory of it felt like acid down his throat. Or maybe that was just the coffee. "Ruby?"

"Yeah, you still remember her? Brunette, black clothes, black eyes? About yae-high." Dean held up a hand at approximately Ruby's height, raising an eyebrow curiously. "She did drop you off, didn't she? You never told me how that went down."

"Well, I never expected her to be working for _you,_ for one thing."

Dean frowned. "So she _did_ take you back?"

"Yeah, we established that." Sam nodded, unsure where this conversation was going. "…Why?"

"Well, you've been pretty vague about the whole thing, Sam. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were sneaking around with her behind my back. That is, if you could get out of the house without knocking something over." Dean tossed in a bit of a tight smile with that last statement to let Sam know that he was joking, but there was a tightness in his jaw that suggested otherwise.

"I haven't talked to her since she dropped me off." Without noticing it, Sam's voice was steely.  
"What, you two have a couple's fight or something?" Dean waggled his eyebrows and raised the mug to his lips, only for it to pause inches away when he noticed that Sam wasn't smiling. Slowly, he stilled. "Dude… Did you and Ruby really have a fight?"

Sam huffed. "Dean, she's a demon. We fight all the time."

"Well yeah, but… Normally you bitch it out, then the two of you are back to your 'kill Lilith' plan the next day."

"Dean… it _is_ the next day. I got here last night."

"Then why the hell are you so defensive?" Dean shrugged. "Cause if she was being a bitch, I probably would have heard about it by now."

"Yeah, well" –

"So what happened?"

"Dean…"

Before Sam could answer, the door swung open again.

"I've been looking for you two," Bobby greeted, voice oddly tight. Both boys sat up in their seats immediately.

"Something wrong?" Dean questioned, already scanning his surroundings with a shifty eye and setting his coffee down on the ground.

Bobby scratched the back of his neck and winced. "No… it's not that. Just get y'er asses out here, alright? There's something that you need to see."

Sam and Dean traded curious looks as they stood, following Bobby single-file through the screen door and into the kitchen.

"You planning on telling us what the hell is going on?" Dean bossed while marching after the older man, who neglected to answer. When he made it into the living room, his feet wouldn't move. Sam, who didn't see what he was staring at, walked right into him, forcing him another step forward.

"What are you" –

"Sammy."

Dean held out a hand beside him, stopping his big little-brother in his tracks, but it was the tone of Dean's voice that got Sam's attention. He followed the track of his big brother's eyes.

Both of them spoke at once, voices full of surprise. "Mom."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Glad I could find a spare moment to write, but you should all know that I should have spent this time studying for finals. Now you know how much I love you! So please review! Put my mind at ease! :D I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks for reading!

- ArmagonAuthor


	40. Chapter 40

Wow, 40 chapters! You guys have been so good to me! Thanks for sticking with me, and I'm looking forward to more chapters to come!

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_Dean held out a hand beside him, stopping his big little-brother in his tracks, but it was the tone of Dean's voice that got Sam's attention. He followed the track of his big brother's eyes._

_ Both of them spoke at once, voices full of surprise. "Mom."_

The air in Sam's chest didn't want to budge, and the wide-eyed man became a statue. Torn between amazement and horror, his eyes darted to John, and then to Bobby. Had any of them suspected that she could be a shape-shifter, or a revenant? The arm around his father's torso could easily be a death-warrant. Almost out of sight at the back door, Castiel hovered in uncomfortable silence. The warrior of God showed no suspicion whatsoever.

Although no one moved, Sam watched his brother's face. John had known Mary the longest, Bobby was standing so close, and Castiel was an angel… but it was Dean's reaction that held the most merit. And not a finger twitched to Dean's gun, nor to the silver knife at his boot. He remained uncharacteristically still, with mouth hanging open in surprise.

Mary – or fake-Mary – took a small expectant step towards them, her brows raised and expression very smooth. It was a mother's look if Sam ever saw one, not that he had any experience with them. Her mouth was slightly open in shock, an expression that Sam recognized, and he was instantly reminded of Dean. Her eyes darted between the two of them as if studying an abstract drawing. "Boys?" When Mary finally spoke, her voice was just a breath of air. It floated across the room with more velocity than any of theirs could have, and Sam could swear that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

Before Sam could question the situation, his brother took a small step forward. A step that meant everything. "Mom?" The statement-turned question propelled the room into motion, and Sam could hear Dean swallow deeply in suspense. How terribly, sadly ironic that a cold-blooded hunter, a hell-raiser, a Dean Winchester, would tremble in his boots at the sight of his own mother.

Mary nodded softly, tilting her head sideways and giving Dean a large grin. "Yeah, honey… it's me." She swallowed tightly, and Sam could see a rim of wetness on her eyelashes. There was understanding in her eyes as she waved Dean forward. "Come here, Dean."

The invitation was all it took for Dean to bolt across the room and pull Mary into his chest, and Mary wrapped her arms around his waist as if she had been doing the motion every day. Sam could hear Dean mumble something into her hair, and she nodded comfortingly in to his shoulder. "I know, sweetie, I know…" To see his big brother so venerable was an off moment that touched Sam just about as much as seeing his mother did, for the rarity of it.

A moment later, after what felt like light-years to Sam, Dean pulled away and held their mother at arm's length. "How…"

"We have your angel-friend here to thank," John explained timidly, interrupting Dean's question.

At the mention of Castiel, who had until now gone mostly un-noticed, Dean's head popped up to the door. "Cas…" His voice was thick with emotion, and Sam couldn't help notice that Castiel seemed to glow a little bit under Dean's attention. The friendship between them had always been apparent to Sam, and the connection continued to amaze him. It was different from the bond that he had with Dean, but still very much there.

"Yes, this was my doing." Castiel smiled crookedly, as if he had just been given permission to do so. It was clear to him that he had done something that would please Dean, which seemed to make him very happy.

Pulling away from the hands on her shoulders, Mary moved towards Sam nervously. She gave him a different kind of smile than Dean had gotten. This one was hopeful, unsure. "…Sammy?"

Sam's heart jumped against his ribs, tempting him to move. It wanted to go to her so bad, but his legs couldn't figure out how to obey. For some reason, Sam felt as if he wasn't allowed to be as excited as Dean and John were. They had known her, held her, and loved her. Sam didn't even remember her. As much as he had tried, all he had grown up with were a few photographs and an imagination. But he had _wanted_ to remember her so badly.

"Y-Yeah…" All of a sudden Sam's mouth felt as dry as the desert. He felt about as awestruck as his father and brother had been before him. Only, he couldn't figure out what to do about it.

It must have been obvious to Mary how hesitant Sam was, although he feared that she credited his behavior to confusion, distance, or worse… disinterest. He wondered what kind of reaction would be appropriate. No, he didn't remember Mary. There was no changing that. But for all the years of dreaming, Sam had wanted and loved the idea of knowing her. He had always felt that he wasn't allowed to regret her passing like Dean had, but had still harbored his own sense of loss. If he held her now like Dean had and celebrated her return, would she understand why?

Luckily, Sam didn't have to be the one to make the decision. There was a flicker of something in Mary's eye, and then all of a sudden her face was buried in his chest. Gratefully Sam hugged her close, reveling in how strong the little woman's arms felt around him. At the sight of her shoulders jumping up and down, he rubbed his hand in circles on her back comfortingly.

"Hey, hey…" Wondering what he did to jumpstart this reaction, Sam winced. "You're alright. It's alright…"

"No, I'm sorry." Mary pulled away shakily, wiping under her eyes with a small laugh. "I just… I'm glad you're okay."

Sam racked his brain to try and figure that one out. "Uh… why wouldn't I be okay?"

At that bluntly outspoken question, Mary's expression changed. He could see the wheels turning as she reevaluated herself. When she spoke again, he knew that she had changed her mind. "Never mind." Forcing on a smile, Mary patted Sam's arm shakily, turning to allow Dean into her line of vision. "You boys… are _so_ handsome." Grinning widely, Mary glimpsed back and forth between them a few times, before giving John a look. "Just like their dad."

John, who had been watching Mary's interaction with her sons with a quiet disposition and small smile, nodded slowly. "I'd say that's more of you, Mary." Although he was clearly trying to hide it, Sam could hear the tears in his voice. Sam was thrilled to have his mother back, and Dean seemed to be walking on air… but he knew that it was John whose world had been completely turned upside-down. He had spent almost 25 years on the hunt for the thing that had killed her, and had never gotten over her death. After everything that John Winchester had been through, he deserved this. Sam was sure of it.

Observing his father closely, Sam saw gratitude. But there was more than that. Somewhere under the proud little grin and the teary eyes was dread, and the cause was clear. How would they hide from Mary what they had been doing all these years? Especially what they would do tonight? The little lines around John's eyes spoke of tension, and Sam found his gaze and held it tightly, hoping his father would understand that someone had his back.

"Sam, why don't you go get your mother settled in? I'm sure Bela will have some clothes she can share for the time being." John gestured upstairs with a wave of his arm, but there was a small nod in his movements that said that he read Sam's body-language. "I'm just going to have a word with our angel-uh… with Castiel here."

"Sure thing, dad." As much as Sam dreaded introducing his mother to Bela Talbot, of all people, he understood his father's need for a little private conversation. Taking Mary's arm gently, he guided her towards the staircase. She followed without protest, linking her arm through his elbow gladly. He couldn't help noticing how small she was compared to the image of her that he had created.

Together they gandered up the staircase in silence, both gleeful and awkward at the same time, and neither spoke first. In the silence, they were more than strangers. Sam heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Dean trotting after them. Before he got too far John reached out and grabbed his eldest by the coat.

"Wait a minute," Although firm, John's voice was easy. "I want to talk to you too."

Sam knew exactly what his father wanted, and he could see in Dean's eyes that he did as well. Damn curious, Sam had to force himself not to linger.

"So how long've you been… you know… back?" The words felt inappropriate, and Sam stumbled over them like fallen objects. He could sense Mary's hesitation.

"Since earlier today sometime. This morning, I think…" She spoke nervously, but with a sense of sureness in her eyes. "This whole thing is a little overwhelming, to be quite honest. It doesn't feel like any time has passed. Yesterday I could hold you with one arm. And now…" Looking upwards, Mary gave an exasperated sigh. "You're so…" With a nod that seemed more obligatory than honest, Mary stopped at the top of the stairs and let her eyes wander, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks.

Grinning crookedly, Sam tilted his head in search for her eyes. "…Tall? Yeah, so I've been told."

Mary blushed at the ease of Sam's reply and shrugged, although there was a new sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just… Things have changed. You and Dean grew up a long time ago. You're men now, with your own lives and interests and responsibilities. And John's had so much time to" –

"To what?" Before his mother could continue that potentially dangerous sentence, Sam cut her short. "Mom, dad never went a day without talking about you. He loved you, and still does. And so do we."

"_Do_ you?" Voice lashed with disbelief, she glanced up hopefully. Sam knew that the weight of the world was balanced on his next words. "But honey, you don't even know me. I mean, I would understand if you boys didn't feel" –

"You're our _mom_, mom." Unsure of what else to say, Sam took both of Mary's small hands in his large ones and shook them a little bit. "That hasn't changed, okay?"

At that Mary's lips pursed together in thought. "Sam… Do you even remember me?"

_Oh god. The question._ Sam's heart fluttered in a not-so-pleasant way that reminded him terribly of the sensations he felt during a vision, except this time he received no enlightenment. He paused, biting the inside of his cheek, and his hands stilled on hers. "Mom," he responded slowly, careful to gauge his words. "I have been hoping for this my whole life." That phrase was followed with a few seconds of silence, a dramatic pause of sorts, before Sam put a small grin on his cheeks for show. "Besides… we just met downstairs."

The joke must have worked to some extent, because Mary's lips parted in a grin. Before she could reply, however, they were joined by a visitor.

"Sam, is that you out there?" Peeking her head around the corner, Bela strolled out of one of the spare bedrooms with Sam's laptop tucked under her arm. "I hope you don't mind I hacked your ebay account to order a few things, I promise I'll pay you back when the cash comes in. It's not like you have any bills to…" At the sight of Mary at Sam's elbow, Bela stopped mid-sentence. She put on a light smile, resting her free hand on her hip. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that we had company…"

"Yeah, uh…. Bela," Sam interjected, gesturing from one lady to the other mildly and giving Bela a pleading look. _Behave, _it begged. "This is my _mother_, Mary."

"Your… _Ah_." Bela's eyes widened at that, as did her smile. Sam wasn't sure if the glimmer in her eye was deviance or pure shock as she reached out to shake Mary's hand. "Bela, Talbot."

"Nice to meet you, Bela." Mary took Bela's hand tightly, grinning past what must have been overwhelming confusion at meeting more people that she didn't know. She gave Sam a sheepish grin. "So how do you know my boys?'

"We met through work, I suppose." The corners of Bela's mouth twitched in humour. "Well, you must be a brave woman to have put up with the little rascals for so long."

Mary had been putting on a brave face until now, but at Bela's comment she paled. "Well, I…"

"_Actually_," Sam put an arm around his mother's shoulders comfortingly, and gave Bela a tight look. "She just got here. Castiel just brought her back too."

"_Too_?"

Bela's mouth parted, although she had nothing to say. "You know, I… Well, I…"

To spare her, Sam explained as simply as he could rather than watch Bela struggle. "I know this is a lot to take in, mom. Trust me, we'll explain soon. Actually, Bela," He looked back up to the other woman who waited nervously for him to speak. "We were wondering if you would mind sharing your wardrobe for a little bit? Just until we get out to a mall or something?"

When it was clear that Sam wasn't going to harass her, Bela visually relaxed. "I could do that."

Once Sam had escorted Mary out of earshot, Dean turned to John patiently. The look of obedience was in his eyes, the one that he had always wore, and John could only look sadly back at him. The things that Dean had done for this family could never be repaid, but John would do everything he could to try. From now on, things would have to change. But after tonight.

"I'll go make some more coffee." Sensing the private moment that was about to take place, Bobby bowed his trucker cap and slipped into the kitchen.

"Castiel…" John spoke deliberately, moving out of character as much as he could to give the angel a respective stance. "You've done so much for these boys, for Mary… for me. And I hope you know how thankful we are for that."

Castiel responded by tilting his down slightly, his expression indicating an understanding of not just the words, but the emotion behind them, and Dean was reminded of the day that he had first met the angel.

_"Good things do happen, Dean. What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved…"_

"I was not the one who chose to bring you back from the dead," Castiel admitted softly. "The order to bring you and your wife back came from high up the list, John. We believe that you and your sons can continue to save lives, as you've been successful in doing thus far." After a moment's pause, Castiel continued with his typical stoic expression, although it had softened with what could only be described as compassion. "This is the first time we have come down among you in two-thousand years, and in all of our time on earth we have not raised many people from the grave. Take comfort in the fact that you and your loved ones have been considered worthy to fight alongside heaven's armies. Preventing Armageddon is a task more important than anything else you could imagine. Hell on earth is not something that we can allow, and I think you both understand the gravity of what I'm telling you."

Dean spoke first, nodding passionately. "We do."

"Then I will return for you tonight." Castiel turned his back, about to disappear, but Dean jumped forward in protest.

"Cas, Wait!"

Pausing where he stood, Castiel revolved in place to watch Dean quizzically. Unsure of himself, Dean took another step forward. "Look, Cas… Mom doesn't know about us yet. There are some things…" He met his father's eye understandingly. "That she can't find out about. So don't mention hunting or the apocalypse or any of that crap around her, okay? And for God's sakes… don't talk about what we're about to do tonight!"

Castiel's eyebrows met, and he slanted his head sideways in confusion. "Dean, it's always best to be honest" –

"We'll tell her what we _need_ to tell her when the time comes," John assured the angel grimly.

A breath of silence moved between the threesome before Castiel spoke again. "Very well. This is neither here nor there, but if this is what you two need to be prepared for tonight's activities, then so be it."

John stepped closer to the pair, closing the triangle between them. "It is. But I'm thinking…" He glanced at his watch with pinched lips. "It might be best for us to pack up whatever we need and leave now. Mary will get suspicious if you show up later tonight. And the sooner we get this over with, the better."

"You don't need anything. I'll provide the necessary" –

"Wait here for a minute, Cas." Dean waved an arm in the angel's general direction before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. There he met an unsuspecting trio.

"Bela…" Observing the woman dryly, Dean put on a smile for his mother's sake. "I see you've met mom."

Bela met him with an icy grin in return. "Yes, I just heard the news. You boys must be thrilled."

"We are." Dean gave a firm nod, a stubborn protest to the undertone in Bela's eyes, before continuing. "But I'm here for you, this time. Get your stuff ready, because we're leaving. Now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for waiting patiently. As it was, this was meant to be posted two weeks ago, but I got sick and my grandmother decided to pay a visit, and as you can guess both things took up most of my time. I was very happy to visit my grandma, and am over my sickness, so now we are back in the game!

I love to hear what you guys are thinking about how the story is going, so please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! I honestly read all of my reviews, and try my darndest to reply to every single one. Your opinion matters, so speak up guys!

(And now for a little shameless self-promotion.)

**I've got a "Wayward Legacy" trailer up on youtube now, so please check it out and let me know what you think. This was made to promote the fic (and as a fun experiment), so I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it. Did this get you excited for the fic? Does it represent the first few chapters well? Would you share this video with your friends to tell them about the fic? Let me know what you think!**

**I can not post links on , but I will give you simple directions on how to find the video!**

**1) Go to youtube.**

**2) Search for "Wayward Legacy Trailer".**

**3) Click on the first video that comes up on the list.**

**If you are interested in seeing the trailer, I would love some feedback. I'm all ears!**


End file.
